


Something to Remember

by CassidyRocks



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 08:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 81,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11665500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassidyRocks/pseuds/CassidyRocks
Summary: Blaine Anderson, middle-school English and Music teacher, knew without a doubt that he had to be at the London Book Festival that year when he discovered that his students’ favourite author, Kurt Hummel, was coming over from the States to run a question and answer session.Little did Blaine and Kurt realise what their chance encounter on the steps of the festival venue would come to mean or, at the very least, cost them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story a couple of years ago as I was just starting out as a committed writer. I've learnt a few things since first posting it, so I took the opportunity to take it down, give some of the words a necessary shake-up, salt-and-pepper the paragraphs with commas and generally clean up some of the sentence fluency. Because it was my first, it remains very special to me. I hope you will enjoy it.

Kurt knew in an instant that this was going to end badly. As he felt his left foot catch the turn-up of his Marc Jacobs trousers, he just knew he was going to fall flat on his face. The Grande non-fat mocha in his left hand would have to be sacrificed because the phone cradled in his right palm had to be protected at all costs. But, just before he hurtled face forwards towards the bottom step, wondering foolishly about facial damage repair costs, Kurt registered the presence of a body in his way.

“Aaaahhhh!...” Kurt managed to yell before closing his eyes and crashing completely into a man who looked up from texting on his phone milliseconds before reaching out his hands to break Kurt’s fall. Unfortunately, the momentum of Kurt’s plunge together with the added attraction of gravity scoffed at the stranger’s desperate, yet futile, attempt to stop the inevitable and pushed both him and Kurt over, spilling them callously onto the marble floor below the last step of the central staircase of the Hotel Conference Centre.

Blaine registered their landing with a blinding slam to his head and a powerful stab of pain in his ankle, followed quickly by a scalding burn on his chest. He tried to voice his indignation at the onslaught of pain but, lacking air in his lungs, he found he could not articulate the words.

“Oh shit!” Kurt managed to gasp when he opened his eyes to find himself lying sprawled on top of the stranger whose eyes were squeezed closed. Kurt’s imprudent mind took a moment to notice and then admire the spicy saffron scent of the man before it bothered to check in with the rest of Kurt’s body for damage control. Surprisingly, his body reported no pain from the extremities although his chest complained of damp warm liquid seeping through his shirt and soaking his skin.

“Oh shit!” Kurt repeated, scrambling to his knees while noting the distress on the inert man’s face. Blaine, in turn, opened his eyes to find the most striking face peering down at him in concern. The colour of the stranger’s eyes seemed to darken slightly as they studied Blaine and Blaine knew that eventually he’d find the right word to describe them – just as soon as his brain started to function again. He raised an arm towards his head but it collided against the other man’s shoulder since Kurt was still sort of straddling him.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Kurt apologised and moved completely off Blaine as Blaine tried again to lift his hand towards his head. He appeared to change his mind mid-journey as his arm dropped instead to his chest to tug away the drenched shirt from his body.

“Ouch! That’s hot!” he exclaimed, glad to have his breath returned.

“It would be,” Kurt noted dryly, sitting back on his haunches beside Blaine. “I just bought it at the Starbucks beside the hotel.” 

He stood up and held out his hand, offering to assist Blaine in getting up. 

Blaine looked up at the brunette with interest and accepted the proffered hand but, as he placed his weight on his feet to become upright, he let out an agonised groan and settled back onto the floor, wincing in pain. Immediately, Kurt was on his knees beside him again.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” he asked breathlessly. The thought that he had caused this handsome man untold agony was almost too much to deal with.

Blaine reached down towards his left foot, pulled up the leg of the blue denim jeans he was wearing and slid the sock down. An already puffy angry ankle greeted him. As Kurt looked down, he could see the purple bruising beginning already.

“Come on,” he ordered. “I’ll help you up. Lean on me; we’ve got to get that ankle iced immediately.” Quickly, he slipped his arms under Blaine’s armpits and heaved him to his feet – well, foot actually, as Blaine was definitely not placing any weight on the injured ankle. As the two of them stood still for a brief moment, arms awkwardly slung around each other, they noticed many an onlooker had now stopped to observe the scene. Kurt quickly lowered his head and prayed fervently that no one would whip out a phone to take a picture. His embarrassment would be all over the Internet within minutes. He pulled his arm where it was wrapped around Blaine’s waist and tugged him towards the Authors’ Restricted Area.

Blaine hobbled along next to Kurt, pleased that they were heading away from the small but very curious crowd. He looked down at the coffee mess on his shirt and grimaced slightly. _Way to ruin a good shirt,_ he thought as he glanced over at the man who had caused his distress and pain. Kurt’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he negotiated the hobbling man through the swing doors that effectively kept the general public away from the guest authors at the London Literature Festival.

“In here,” he motioned with his head towards an open door on the right and guided Blaine in. “It’s a rest room for the authors and I happen to know there’s a fully-stocked First Aid cabinet and freezer.” Once inside the room, he carefully settled Blaine onto the comfortable two-seater sofa and pulled the coffee table closer. 

“Lift your leg up onto the table and I’ll get some ice,” he instructed.

Blaine reached down and gingerly stripped his injured ankle of the shoe and sock, again wincing at the pain of that simple action. He took a cushion from beside him and placed it on the table before gently placing his foot on it and was stretching back into the sofa just as Kurt returned with ice packs from the freezer. 

“Shit!” Kurt exclaimed at the swollen ankle which was quickly darkening into a dark purple bruise.

Blaine laughed. “So you’ve said … several times.” But, as Kurt began to place the icepacks on the ankle, it quickly became Blaine’s turn.

“Shit!” he complained, “that’s cold.” Kurt looked up from his ministrations and fixed Blaine with a stern look.

“Language Mister!” he admonished. Blaine burst out laughing despite the pain throbbing in his ankle at that moment.

“How are you even real?” he asked, chuckling still.

Kurt checked that the ice packs wouldn’t fall off and then sat down on the coffee table facing Blaine. He looked carefully at the curly-haired man in front of him and took in those hazel-chocolate eyes with flecks of green dancing in the overhead neon light. Blaine returned his gaze, steady and confidant, until Kurt shivered and glanced away.

“Look,” he started, and then looked back into Blaine’s eyes. “I am dreadfully sorry about this. I’m an awful klutz and anyone who knows me back home knows I should come with my very own personal disaster warning signal.”

Blaine giggled at that comment and held up his hand to stop the man from continuing his apology.

“Hey, no; it was an accident. I get that. I’m sure you had no intention to throw your coffee over the first person who got in your way this evening.”

Kurt shook his head sadly, for a moment mourning the loss of his Grande non-fat mocha.

“I was really looking forward to that coffee,” he agreed, a slight smirk on his face which changed instantly when he realized where his coffee had ended up.

“Oh shit! Your shirt! It’s ruined,” he pointed out.

“Relax! Please; it can be washed and if not, it’s easily replaced.” Blaine raised his eyebrow at Kurt and then said, “It’s not like this is the only shirt I own.”

“I’ll replace it for you,” interjected Kurt decisively. “I will. As soon as you are back on your feet, I’ll take you to the store and we’ll get you a new one.”

Blaine laughed at Kurt’s insistence and something inside Kurt warmed at the sound. Something deep within him urged him to say something funny just so he could hear that laughing sound again and again.

“Now would be a good time to tell you that it’s a Ralph Lauren special edition, eh?” Blaine quipped with a twinkle in his eye.

“Uh, no, actually it wouldn’t be,” returned Kurt, fixing his best ‘bitch, please’ glare on Blaine. “I know a Ralph Lauren special edition when I see it and despite your illusions of grandeur, Mister, that isn’t one.” Suddenly, Kurt gasped and clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with horror.

“Shit!” he exclaimed for the sixth time that evening. “That was unforgivably rude of me. I’m so sorry. My father says I have no filter. I don’t even know your name, I haven’t even thanked you properly for stopping my fall and now I’ve insulted you. Please, I’m dreadfully sorry.”

Blaine studied the contrite man in front of him. His eyes were lowered in embarrassment and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt where it lay in his lap. Blaine’s heart fluttered a little at the sight of the man’s discomfort.

Blaine spoke into the awkward silence. “My name’s Blaine.”

Kurt looked up at Blaine and smiled gratefully at the easy forgiveness and genuine kindness radiating from the man’s eyes.

“Kurt,” he responded in kind. “Kurt Hummel.”

“Shit!” Blaine’s eyes widened in recognition. “You’re Kurt Hummel! – That’s why you were able to bring me into this room. You’re Kurt Hummel – ‘children’s novelist extraordinaire’.” Blaine’s hands went up into the air to indicate the quotation he was using from a _Time_ magazine article he had read. “My children adore you – well, they adore your stories.”

“At your service.”

Kurt attempted to bow deeply from his seated position but then turned to check on the ice packs on Blaine’s ankle determined to hide the disappointment that flittered across his eyes at the news of Blaine’s children. When he had collected himself enough and was satisfied that the ice packs were doing their job in reducing the swelling, he turned back to Blaine and asked lightly, “Is your wife with you? Will she be worried about where you are right now?”

Blaine’s forehead creased in confusion. “My wife?” he queried, surprised. “I don’t have a wife, Kurt. I’m gay.”

Kurt looked at Blaine in astonishment, his heart racing at the news.

“I’m sorry, you mentioned your children and I just … I’m so sorry; I should never have assumed. Oh shit! I’m such a …” Kurt stopped and looked at Blaine. “Why are you laughing?” he quizzed.

Blaine chuckled. “In all my life, I have never met someone who, in the space of a few minutes, has managed to use the word ‘shit’ so many times. And that’s saying something, because Nick swears like a sailor.”

“Nick, huh?” Kurt interjected quietly, holding his breath.

“My best friend from when we were just two bricks and a tikkie high. He and I teach together in the same middle school. His husband, Jeff, is forever fining him for his swearing. I reckon that’s how they can afford their holidays each summer.”

“You teach, huh?” Kurt repeated, a satisfied smile playing on his lips at the news that sailor-swearing Nick was married.

“Yeah I do; hence ‘the children’ who love your books,” replied Blaine, grinning at the man in front of him.

“What do you teach?” asked Kurt, his heart beginning to swell at the thought of this attractive man surrounded by young children.

“English and Music to years 5, 6 and 7,” replied Blaine and Kurt could hear the pride in his voice as he answered.

“Is that equivalent to our grades in the States?” queried Kurt. “I mean, are your years here the same as ours?” 

“Yes, yes I think they are,” confirmed Blaine. “Little critters aged between 10 and 12 are my special lot in life. Many of them chose to read your latest novel for their Summer Book Reports and they loved it. You truly are very talented, Mr Hummel.”

“Don’t you dare ‘Mr Hummel’ me, Blaine! I’m the guy who wrecked your ankle, destroyed your shirt and generally put his foot in his mouth each time he opened it tonight.”

“Gosh, you have been busy, haven’t you?” Blaine teased lightly, enjoying the blush that swept over the young writer’s cheeks. Kurt turned away, ostensibly to check the ice packs.

“How is your ankle feeling?” he asked.

“Hmm,” replied Blaine, “it’s a tad difficult to tell now because I’ve lost all feeling in that foot.”

Kurt was concerned. It was getting late and surely Blaine would be keen to get home.

“How far is your home from here?” he asked worriedly and Blaine shrugged his shoulders.

“About two hours and three minutes if you take the M3 or two hours and twenty minutes if you don’t.”

Under the full force of Kurt’s glare, Blaine qualified his response with a grin, “What? It’s true- you Google it and see.”

“So you don’t live in London,” stated Kurt matter-of-factly.

“Nope – Southampton born and raised,” replied Blaine proudly. “Where’s home for you, Kurt?”

“Me? Oh, ..um… I was born in a town called Lima, in Ohio and got the hell out of there the day after graduation. Studied journalism and creative writing in New York whilst interning for Vogue.com and then, when my first screenplay was accepted for production, I moved to LA where I now live.”

“Wow! Yours really is a ‘small-town boy makes good’ story isn’t it? That’s fantastic.”

“Yeah well, anything is better than living in homophobic Lima,” Kurt shrugged dismissively but Blaine didn’t miss the hurt that laced the words and he was at a loss as to how to respond. He sat up and shook the ice packs off his ankle as he lifted his leg from off the coffee table.

“Wait, Blaine! What are you doing?” asked Kurt as he stood up.

“I guess I should get going,” Blaine replied. “I’ve a long tube journey ahead of me.”

“Where are you spending the night?” Kurt asked as he watched Blaine attempt to push himself off the sofa without putting weight on his ankle.

“I’ve got a friend in Morden.” Blaine huffed in pain as he righted himself, looked at Kurt and continued, “It’s the last stop on the Northern Line.”

“Blaine,” Kurt reached out his hand to grab Blaine’s arm and steady him as the man wobbled uncomfortably on his uninjured foot. “I’ve got a suite upstairs in the hotel. Why don’t you rather just stay here overnight? You really can’t put any weight on that foot. If you travel uptown now, you are only going to make it worse which will ruin your whole weekend. I feel bad enough for your injury already, please allow me to make it up to you this way.”

Blaine looked steadily into Kurt’s eyes, reading the genuine concern there but also identifying the flicker of interest and hope. His heart plummeted.

“Kurt, that’s a very kind offer and I am very tempted to take you up on it--”

“Then do,” Kurt encouraged eagerly but Blaine held up his hand to stop the writer's enthusiasm and continued to explain himself.

“Not because you feel that you owe me at all, but rather because I don’t think I can face that journey on the underground right now at all. I’m not even sure I can put my shoe back on net alone limp up to the tube station. It’s just--”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupted again, his eyes imploring. “Accept my offer, please.” 

“Kurt-” Blaine struggled to find a steady voice. “Kurt, I’m married.”


	2. Chapter 2

As the soft chimes of the doorbell interrupted Kurt’s concentration, he aimed the remote at the television effectively silencing the Sky News presenter’s voice and headed towards the door. A young man with a pleasant smile stood outside, his arms resting on the handle bar of a heavily-laden serving trolley in front of him.

“Room Service for Mr Kurt Hummel?” he queried and, at Kurt’s nod and welcoming gesture, he pushed the trolley into the hotel suite.

‘I’ll just be a moment, Sir,” he informed Kurt and set about laying the dinner table with a white linen cloth which he produced from the bottom tray of the trolley. Kurt watched the precise, practised movements as the young man quickly laid out the silver cutlery and glasses and then proceeded to fold the white linen napkins into perfect cones, earning silent applause from Kurt. Soon, the waiter had set the domed-plates onto the table and, having placed the wine into the room’s silver wine cooler, drew it up within easy reach of the dinner table. Expertly, he lit the candles using a lighter he produced from his back pocket. Kurt grinned as the waiter stood back from his handiwork, surveyed the scene and smiled in satisfaction. Then, he turned to face Kurt who nodded in appreciation.

“Excellent! Thank you.” Kurt smiled at the young man as he slipped an English banknote into his hand. “I appreciate your efforts.” The waiter smiled his gratitude in return and walked towards the door. 

“When you’re finished, Mr Hummel, you can ring Room Service and someone will be up to clear the plates or you could push everything out into the hallway if you’d prefer not to be disturbed again this evening. Alternatively, you could leave everything just as it is for Housekeeping to deal with tomorrow. Enjoy your evening, Sir.” With a final nod and a farewell smile, the waiter left and Kurt closed the door behind him. 

Kurt surveyed the room. The dining room table looked inviting and the aroma of the food currently hidden by the domed-lids was deliciously tempting. Kurt realised he was actually very hungry.

“Blaine!” he called out. “Dinner’s here.”

One of the inter-leading doors opened and, for a brief moment, Kurt’s breath caught in his chest as his eyes took in the sight of Blaine, dressed only in the hotel’s fluffy white dressing gown, limping through into the living area. Damp curls clung to his forehead and Kurt watched as a few water droplets escaped the curls to race each other down the side of Blaine’s face.

“Something smells delicious!” Blaine exclaimed, his voice breaking into Kurt’s thoughts and dragging him back into the reality of the room.

“Yeah, yeah it does, doesn’t it? I suddenly realised how hungry I am. Come sit down.” Kurt gestured for Blaine to take one of the seats at the table.

“How is your ankle feeling?” he asked, concerned. “Did that soak in the tub help at all?”

“It was fantastic!” Blaine gushed. “That bath is like a full-on Jacuzzi with all those jets and sprays and what not. I almost didn’t want to get out but then my stomach rumbled.”

Kurt sat down opposite Blaine at the table and smiled at the teacher’s excitement over jets sprays. He caught Blaine’s eyes staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

Blaine blushed. There was no way he was going to admit that he had spent the time in the bath trying to find the right word to describe Kurt’s brilliant blue eyes and now, as he watched the candlelight flicker and reflect themselves in those deep blue pools, he finally settled on ‘cerulean’.

“Uh, nothing,” he coughed. “I guess, I just wanted to say…um…gosh, Kurt, this is all a bit surreal for me but I’m enormously grateful. Wes doesn’t have a bath in his apartment – I would have been subjected to a shower this evening. So, … um … I’m really glad you crashed into me earlier.”

Kurt’s smile was genuine and his eyes contemplative as he reached for his wine glass. 

“Me too, Blaine; me too,” he responded. Then he raised his glass and gestured for Blaine to do the same. “Here’s to a new friendship though it be oceans apart and borne out of sheer clumsiness and excruciating pain.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Blaine seconded the toast and they both took a sip of wine as they stared at each other. The moment was heavy and threatened to become awkward until Kurt returned his glass to the table, clapped his hands twice in anticipation and reached forward to raise the silver dome off his plate.

“Let’s tuck in,” he invited.

*****

 

“No, seriously, that’s the honest truth,” Blaine protested as Kurt laughed at his ridiculous story. “Nick and I both fell for him the day he started high school with us but Jeff made it very clear immediately that he only had eyes for Nick Duval. I, being the gentleman I am, was very gracious in defeat and the three of us have been best friends ever since.”

“Although Nick and Jeff were ‘best friends with benefits’,” Kurt pointed out with a smirk, “whilst you were just … best friends.”

“Yeah, something like that,” agreed Blaine, shrugging his shoulders with a smile. “Although they never made me feel like I was a third wheel at all.”

Kurt reached over to fill up Blaine’s wine glass. The remnants of their delicious dinner lay on empty plates around them on the table; the meal was long over but, clearly, the conversation was not.

“Blaine, let me carry our wine over to the sofa and we can chat there so you can rest your ankle again,” suggested Kurt.

It took the men a while to get Blaine comfortable on the sofa with his ankle resting on top of a pillow on the coffee table. Kurt had managed to find a channel on the television which played soft background music and the light provided by the candles on the table behind them was enough for them not to need to switch on any more lights.

“What about you, Mr Hummel?” asked Blaine as Kurt settled in on the sofa beside him, turning his body slightly to face Blaine. “What embarrassing high school stories do you have to share?”

“Hmm…” mused Kurt. “There are so many from which to choose. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

Blaine giggled at that. “Start with your most embarrassing high school crush,” he insisted, “I did.”

Kurt laughed out loud. “Yeah, but your crush became a good friend, mine became … my step-brother.”

“Shit! Kurt – that had to be awkward.” Blaine’s eyes were wide in sympathy.

“Swear fine, Hobbit!” admonished Kurt and Blaine groaned.

“Hobbit?” he queried, his voice soft, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised in curiosity.

“It fits. Let it be,” instructed Kurt and waved his hand dismissively. Blaine shrugged, smiled and tried to understand the fluttering in his stomach. Regaining control, he returned to the conversation.

“But seriously, you and your step-brother are okay now? Family dinners are not awkward?”

Kurt’s smile faded, he turned his head away from Blaine allowing his gaze to settle on the flickering candles on the dining room table at the other side of the room.

“Yeah, No, it’s not awkward anymore. He’s … um … he died.”

“Shit Kurt!” Blaine held up his hands in apology as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I mean, I’m sorry – that’s rough.”

“It was. He was 19 when he died - eight years ago. My dad married his mom in our junior year which-” Kurt paused, chuckling slightly at the memory, “… was my fault really. I introduced them in a scheme to get closer to Finn but when he rejected me flat out, things got messy. After our parents got married, it took a while for us to find our footing but, in the end we were truly brothers. Do you know what I mean?”

Blaine nodded in understanding.

“Nick’s the closest thing I have to a brother, so yeah, I get what you mean. Nick and I were inseparable all through middle school and when Jeff joined us in high school we became Southampton High’s Fearsome Threesome. We did everything together: fencing, boxing, swimming and when the annual school production came around – our names were always listed numbers 1, 2 and 3. In fact, eventually the Drama Department began to publish the signup sheets with our names already typed in place before they went on the school notice board.” Blaine laughed at the memory and Kurt smiled.

“Did you guys fight over parts and solos at all? That’s mostly what I remember from my Glee Club years. I was always screaming to be heard and desperate for a solo.”

Blaine quirked his eyebrows and Kurt giggled at the sight of the bushy triangular brows which were raised in surprise.

“You sing?” Blaine asked.

“Why yes, Hobbit, I do. You seem surprised,” Kurt countered, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

“No, I’m not, actually. I just didn’t think … I had you in this … this ‘writer's box’ and didn’t ... that was dumb of me. I bet you sound amazing. I should have brought my guitar with me this weekend. We could have sung together.”

“Oh, I don’t really sing that much anymore really. More focused on the writing, you know.”

Blaine listened judiciously to the rushed excuse and then asked, “Did you always want to be a writer, Kurt? Was that your childhood dream?”

Kurt hummed as he reached for his wine glass and took a sip before answering Blaine. “Honestly? No, not really. I always enjoyed writing and knew I was good at it. I ran the school newspaper since sophomore year and produced three annual literary magazines for the school but _my_ _dream_ … my dream was Broadway.” Kurt chanced a glance at Blaine as he said that, wondering if the man he’d just met that evening would scoff at him.

“I can understand that – especially if you were successful in Glee Club.” Blaine answered and Kurt, sensing no judgement, continued.

“Our Glee club won Nationals in my senior year and I auditioned for NYADA.” When Kurt saw Blaine frown at the unfamiliar term, he qualified quickly, “New York Academy of Dramatic Arts.” Blaine nodded, appreciating the added information.

“But I didn’t get in,” Kurt admitted, “So I went to New York University instead. I’m not sorry, Blaine. I understand that my voice is unique and I would have struggled to get the male lead on stage and my life would have been a series of constant disappointments. Now, I’m able to allow my over-active imagination run wild, write it down and people pay me to read it! It doesn’t get any better – I don’t think.”

“I happen to know about a hundred middle-school monsters who are eternally glad you didn’t get into this NYADA School. You have made their lives so much richer with your stories, Kurt – you are truly talented.” Blaine’s praise was so genuine and so heart-felt that Kurt felt overwhelmed and self-consciously laughed it off.

“Right!” he declared loudly. “That’s enough about me. I need some hobbit secrets. How about you, Blaine? Are you living your dream? Is teaching it for you?”

“I guess that’s fair enough,” replied Blaine, and Kurt found it hard not to stare as Blaine thought about his answer while running his index finger lightly around the rim of his wine glass. 

“I have always loved music. I play a couple of different instruments and I think for a while in high school I might have wanted to do something with my music. I don’t know – form a band maybe, become a musician full time. I wasn’t too sure where I was headed even when we started at university in Exeter but I met Chad at a Gay Alliance mixer during our orientation week and, through him, I met a group of students who were helping out at a women’s shelter on the outskirts of town. The first day we went along, I took my guitar with because … well, in those years it went everywhere with me. Anyway, I ended up playing and singing with the children - teaching them some fun action songs. The shelter organisers asked if I could come back on a weekly basis and work with the children. I agreed and eventually Nick, Jeff and I became a regular feature.”

“Not Chad?” asked Kurt quietly, not wanting to seem to be prying.

“No, Chad was very busy that year with Student Council matters, RA duties and his senior year finals. It was just us three and, eventually, when we had to choose our majors, Nick and I chose early childhood education.”

“What does Chad do, Blaine?”

“He’s a fairly successful property lawyer. Two years ago, just after we got married in fact, he and Sebastian, a mate from university, set themselves up on their own. They’ve been working very hard and the practice is doing pretty well.”

“So, um … Chad… was he your first boyfriend?” Kurt asked curiously because Blaine hadn’t mentioned anyone else since his two week crush on Jeff in high school.

Blaine nodded as he took another sip of wine. “He was my first.” Kurt couldn’t help thinking Blaine was adorable because he blushed when he continued, “ … my first … everything. He completely bowled me over at the GA mixer and by the end of the evening we were a couple. How about you? Did the debacle with Finn scar you for life?”

Kurt gave Blaine a ‘ _are you kidding me?’_ glare before answering. “Far from it, actually,” he replied in a mock haughtily tone. “In my senior year, I had a brief fling with Chandler -a crazy nut I met in a music store.” Kurt laughed softly at the memory. “But, I suspect he was more in love with idea that I was headed to New York than with me, per se.” 

Blaine giggled and Kurt paused to enjoy that sound yet again before continuing. “And then, in New York, there was Adam. I met him at _CallBacks_ , a bar for NYADA students. My friend, Rachel from high school – yeah, her audition was successful; she got in and invited me to join her there one evening. She introduced me to her classmate, Adam, who asked me to sing a song with him and well, we just sorta clicked.” Kurt trailed off.

“Did it last? Are you still together?” Blaine was curious.

“No it didn’t. Eventually we realised we just didn’t fit anymore and then the film people came calling about my screenplay so, soon after I graduated, I moved to LA and haven’t had the time nor inclination for a boyfriend since.”

A strange sort of silence, unsettling and heavy like a quiet thick fog, descended over the two men as they took time to digest each other’s stories. Blaine swallowed the rest of his wine and then bridged the silent break.

“Kurt, I’m so glad you bumped into me this evening. I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you. You are one of life’s exceptional people – you’re brave and funny, talented and smart and I would be honoured to call you friend, if you’d allow me?”

Kurt looked over at Blaine. The latter’s hazel-honey eyes were clear and honest in the flickering light and held Kurt’s gaze, steadfast and true.

“I think I’d like that very much Blaine,” he replied sincerely.

At that moment, Blaine’s phone began to ring and, reading the caller ID, he swore as he answered.

“Oh Shit! Wes!”

Kurt got up from the sofa to give Blaine some privacy but as he moved towards the door of his bedroom, he could hear the raised voice full of concern on the other side of the phone.

“Blainers, where the bloody hell are you, mate?”

<


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine watched from his seat at the table as Kurt negotiated the crowd around the breakfast buffet and walked towards their table, carefully balancing a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in each hand.

“Look!” he called to Blaine as he neared their table. “I have managed not to spill a drop!” His voice was triumphant and his smile, wide.

Blaine grinned in amusement at his new friend. “Don’t jinx it!” he cautioned, just as Kurt set one of the glasses down on the table in front of Blaine.

“Cheers!” he toasted Blaine as he held up his glass in greeting. “Now, you stay here and rest your foot and I will load you up a plate of yummy deliciousness. They’ve got absolutely everything here.”

“Kurt, you don’t have to…” Blaine tried to object but Kurt interrupted him.

“No hush, Hobbit! I plan to be your personal slave this morning. You really should try to stay off that foot as much as possible.”

Blaine laughed. “That’s going to be interesting because I have a three hour session this morning called ‘Shakespeare on your Feet’.” Kurt’s eyes lit up in excitement.

“Really? Ooh, that’s sounds awesome. But, really, you should do the ‘Bard on your Butt’ version – it’ll be better for you ankle.”

When Blaine laughed at his quick-witted joke, Kurt smiled and that now-familiar feeling of warmth flooded his being. _How lucky is Chad to get to hear that laugh on a daily basis_? Kurt thought.

“Right,” Kurt reminded himself of his current mission, “… breakfast. Anything in particular I should avoid?”

“No,” Blaine shook his head, “I’ll eat anything. Thank you, Kurt.” 

Kurt nodded and set off determinedly towards the buffet once again, nimbly working his way around a large crowd of Oriental tourists. Blaine watched him for a bit and then shook his head again as he marvelled, not for the first time, at the interesting twist the Fates had dealt him this weekend.

Kurt had appeared to accept Blaine’s declaration of his marital status last night with good grace and, despite admonishing Blaine for not wearing a wedding band, remained resolute in his offer of the extra bedroom in his suite which Blaine had accepted gratefully. Blaine had quickly realised that Kurt’s fame held many perks as the author had simply rung the hotel reception and instructed them to ensure that Blaine’s kitbag from the Conference Left Luggage holding booth be brought up to Kurt’s suite instead. As soon as Blaine had hobbled into the suite, still supported for the most part by Kurt’s strong arms, he had been blown away by the luxury Kurt’s lifestyle afforded. 

Taking another sip of his orange juice, Blaine thought back to the pleasant evening they’d shared last night. Kurt was easy company and Blaine felt comfortable and relaxed in his presence. Blaine wondered how any sane gay man in L.A. had not yet snapped up the opportunity to date the gorgeous man now fast approaching Blaine’s table with a tray laden with dishes.

“Here we go, Hobbit,” announced Kurt as he set the tray down and began to offload the various dishes. “We’ve got eggs, bacon, mushrooms, mini pork sausages, fried tomatoes and hash browns. But I didn’t get the baked beans, I’m afraid,” he admitted to Blaine. “I know it’s an English breakfast tradition but I just couldn’t do it. It goes against all I stand for, really.” 

Blaine laughed at his silly confession. “That’s okay – I think I can forgive that. This looks awesome, Kurt. Thank you. There’s enough grease here to keep me going for the day.”

Kurt sat down opposite Blaine and nodded in chagrin. “Yeah, and clog your arteries, as well. My father would be seriously annoyed with me right now for allowing a friend I care about to consume that much greasy food. He would call me out on having double standards and how it’s not fair.”

“Your dad’s on a special diet?” asked Blaine, his voice steady while he mentally filed away Kurt’s ‘friend I care about’ comment.

“Yeah – a very strict nutrition plan. He had a heart attack at the beginning of my junior year. Was in a coma for days and scared the living crap out of me.”

Blaine put down the butter knife, instinctively reached for Kurt’s hand across the table and gave it a brief squeeze. “Kurt, I’m so sorry,” he said and Kurt felt his cheeks begin to colour at the sweet gesture. He pulled his hand away and reached for his own utensils.

“Well, when he woke up, the doctor insisted we change his diet and he’s been complaining ever since. Carole is very good and doesn’t let him get away with anything. I couldn’t bear to lose him.”

Blaine swallowed before stating quietly. “It sounds like you have a really great relationship with him, Kurt. You’re lucky.”

Kurt looked up and tilted his head to the side as he thought about Blaine’s comment. Then slowly, he nodded. 

“You’re right; actually, I am very lucky. It wasn’t always great though. My mom died when I was eight and for a long while dad and I just couldn’t connect. I was dreadfully nervous when I came out to him in my sophomore year but he was awesome. Said he’d known for a long time that I was gay and that he loved me nevertheless.” Kurt looked up to gauge Blaine’s reaction to his story and was horrified to find the man’s eyes awash with tears.

“Blaine? What’s wrong? Shit! Is it your ankle? Are you in a lot of pain?”

Blaine held up a hand to stop Kurt’s avalanche of questions and shook his head in response. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine! Gosh, … what an idiot I am! It’s just, I’m so happy for you Kurt. That your dad was …well… receptive to your news and supported you.”

“I’m thinking your story is very different, Blaine,” Kurt stated quietly as the other man wiped surreptitiously at his eyes with the breakfast napkin. Blaine nodded sadly.

“My mother upped and left my father when I was just a baby and basically disappeared from my life and so, for the longest time, it was just me and my dad. I was 14 when I came out to him, acknowledging the truth about who I am and … it was …. like… I don’t know, but overnight he changed.”

It was Kurt’s turn to reach across the table to find Blaine’s hand to give it an encouraging squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Blaine. We don’t have to talk about it if it upsets you so.”

Blaine sniffed but continued in a low voice. “My dad became so difficult and belligerent that I began to spend more and more time at Nick’s house, so then he found excuses to accuse me, on more than one occasion, of being ‘inappropriate’ with Nick although he knew Nick and Jeff were in a steady relationship. He just seemed to find any excuse to belittle me and make rude, really offensive remarks about my sexuality. It was dreadfully hurtful and I felt so alone – missing a mother I hadn’t really missed before – you know?”

‘Yeah,” whispered Kurt in empathy. “I can understand that.”

“A few months before my 16th birthday, he told me he was moving to Brazil to set up a branch of his business and, being gay, I wasn’t welcome to join him. So I moved in with my elderly grandmother which, actually, was a blessing in disguise. She was incredible to me back then – simply accepting me for who I was and never questioning or commenting either way. It just wasn’t an issue for her. She has Alzheimer’s disease now which is really difficult to deal with but, at a time when I really needed support, she was the only one - besides Nick and his family- who gave it to me.”

“She sounds wonderful, Blaine,” Kurt spoke when Blaine fell silent. “I’m sorry about the Alzheimer’s though. That’s got to be rough.”

“Yeah, it is,” Blaine agreed. “She got sick soon after Chad and I got married.”

“Did, um … did your dad come to your wedding?” Kurt hoped Blaine wouldn’t find the question too intrusive.

“No, no he didn’t. Chad insisted we send him an invitation though but it was returned to us with the words ‘sick perverts’ scrawled across in his handwriting. I burnt it and with it every memory I have of my father – he is dead to me.”

Kurt was grateful for the arrival of the waitress at that moment to inquire whether her patrons would like tea or coffee. Both men quickly requested coffee and the waitress happily poured them each a mug in silence as Kurt reflected on their conversation. When she moved away from their table, Blaine reached for the sugar bowl and attempted to lighten the atmosphere by changing the subject, hoping Kurt would accept his lead.

“So, Mr Kurt Hummel – children’s author of particular note – what are your plans for the day?” Kurt didn’t disappoint in the least, picking up the change in topic and answering smoothly.

“Well, I have a series of interviews this morning, a meeting after lunch and then my own public question and answer session late this afternoon,” he replied.

“Yes, I booked for your Q&A, actually,” Blaine was nodding as he smiled shyly. “I’ve got about 10 minutes between Eoin Colfer’s session and yours.”

Kurt lowered his coffee mug from his mouth and quirked an eyebrow at Blaine. “You’re coming to my session?” he asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Hell yeah!” answered Blaine enthusiastically. “You are the main reason I booked this weekend – well you _and_ Shakespeare _and_ Colfer _and_ Philippa Gregory. It was actually her session I was leaving yesterday evening before we … um … well, … before we …. met.”

Kurt’s laugh rang out through the dining hall and Blaine thought it was the loveliest sound he’d heard in a long time. He looked at his friend’s face to find Kurt’s eyes creased and his nose crinkled in amusement.

“Oh Hobbit, you _are_ a junkie.”

Kurt looked at his watch and then nodded pointedly at Blaine. “If we’re going to get you to the Bard’s Foot Focus session on time, we’d better leave now.”

Kurt helped Blaine to his feet and steadied him as he found his balance before limping through the hotel’s dining room on their way to the Conference Centre. When they reached Blaine’s venue, Kurt turned to him and said, “Would you like to grab some lunch with me later? I could meet you back here after your workshop and we could go somewhere?”

Blaine groaned. “Kurt, I couldn’t possibly eat again. Not after this morning _and_ last night.” He watched as Kurt’s face fell in disappointment so he rushed on. “But I’d love to meet up with you, though. Perhaps we could replace that coffee you missed last night?” 

Blaine had to admit it was terribly cute to watch the transformation on Kurt’s face. Delight replaced disappointment as his face lit up and his smile was wide and pleased. Blaine was struck by a need to ensure that Kurt’s face always wore that second expression. Kurt’s happy face was a gift to the world and Blaine had an inkling that it didn’t come too easily.

“That would be great, Blaine. I’ll see you back here, then.” Kurt began to walk away but he turned around abruptly when Blaine’s voice called out to him.

“Hey, Kurt!” 

Kurt saw Blaine’s eyes light up with mischief as he reached out his hand towards Kurt in an overly dramatic gesture.

“Parting is such sweet sorrow.” 

Kurt giggled. “Hobbit – you’re such a dork!” and with that, he left to attend to his own responsibilities.

*****

“I kid you not, Blaine. He genuinely asked me ‘What would your characters see in the Mirror of Erised?’ I mean, come on! How obvious is it that you haven’t read the book and you don’t have any decent questions to ask?” Kurt stirred his coffee in mild irritation.

Blaine shuffled in his chair trying again to get comfortable. Kurt had insisted that the Starbucks staff bring Blaine an extra chair to rest his foot on but he was finding the whole position more uncomfortable than not.

“I don’t know,” he dared to challenge Kurt. “I think it’s a pretty cool question. I used it once in an English exam and it wasn’t because I didn’t have any other decent questions to ask. It’s an opportunity to assess whether readers have really come to understand the character completely; if they know a character well enough to articulate what the secret desires of the character’s heart truly are. I mean, I know what I would see if _I_ looked in that mirror, but people who think they know me and understand me, would they identify the same things as I would?”

Kurt looked up from stirring the teaspoon in his coffee and stared long and hard at Blaine as he contemplated his friend’s argument. Then, he grimaced and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I guess; it _is_ a pretty cool question. I reckon I was just mentally drained. He was interviewer number six and I think maybe I was the one who had run out of decent answers.”

Blaine smiled at the humility his friend was prepared to show and Kurt rose in Blaine’s estimation even more.

“Tell me about your morning, though,” Kurt pressed. “You looked pretty whacked when I came to collect you so I guess you didn’t pay any heed to my instruction to take it easy and rest your foot?”

Blaine’s face lit up at the memory of the dynamic workshop which had been run by a member of staff of The Royal Shakespeare Globe Theatre Company. Passionately, he began to regale Kurt with the lessons learnt and practised that morning. Kurt listened attentively but his rebellious mind was on its own mission. 

_Hey Kurt! Psst… Kurt! – Isn’t it cute how excited he gets? He’s like a puppy! An adorable puppy._

He’s married.

_Kurt? Are you listening to that accent? I love that clipped English accent. It’s so hot._

Again, he’s married.

_Are those eyebrows even legal? Look at them dance around his face as he talks._

I said; he’s married.

_Kurt, look he’s lifting his arms…. 0h my Gaga, hold the phone! Look at those biceps. I bet he works out at the gym or plays some sort of sport._

Swims

_What?_

He swims.

_Yeah, swimming will make those biceps._

And boxes.

_Boxes? That means he sweats, Kurt. Sweat! Kurt!! I love sweat. Damn, that’s hot._

Stop it! He’s married.

_Kuurrrrrttt! He’s gorgeous. I could drown in those eyes._

Did you hear me? He’s married. I _**will**_ respect that. Blaine and I are going to be good friends and that’s all! Now shut up so I can concentrate on what he’s saying.

Kurt cut off his internal dialogue just as he heard Blaine say, “I’m sorry, I’m hogging the conversation and probably boring you to tears.”

“No, not at all,” Kurt hastened to reassure his friend. “I love how animated you get when telling a story though. Your students must simply love your classes. I picture you as some sort of modern-day Pied Piper. Where you go, they will follow – simply to be a part of your--”

“Ouch, Hummel – that’s a low blow,” Blaine interrupted. “A pied piper? You _do_ know he stole all the children, don’t you? I’m going to need to check your credentials, Mr Hot Shot children’s author.” 

Blaine enjoyed the flush of colour that appeared on Kurt’s cheeks as he became embarrassed by Blaine’s teasing tone.

“Watch it, Hobbit – you still have one perfectly able foot remaining and the day is not yet done!” Kurt warned cheerfully.

“In that case, good sir, can I tempt you to another coffee and perhaps biscotti to share with me?” Blaine offered in reconciliation.

Kurt looked at his watch and sighed. “Blaine, as much as I’d like to, I really need to get to that meeting.” He stood up and gathered his messenger bag. “I’ll see you later, right?” he confirmed, taking care to keep the trace of desperation out of his voice.

“Yes, yes of course – I’ll be over to your session just as soon as Colfer lets us out of his. Take care, Kurt.”

“You too, Blaine.” Kurt replied and turned to walk away. 

Blaine watched him leave and thought of the fun he would have on Monday morning when he could tell his children that he’d met their favourite American author. Oh, they’d be so jealous. They’d ask all sorts of questions and Blaine wondered how he would be able to answer without gushing, “He’s amazing!” every two seconds because really, the man was just that – simply amazing. He was talented, funny, smart, gorgeous, handsome and gorgeous ... _wait, … what_? 

Blaine shook his thoughts clear. Of course Kurt was handsome. Blaine had always thought so. The photograph on the inside of Kurt’s first book jacket had established that point for Blaine long ago but he had to admit that meeting the man in the flesh made him question the skills of the professional photographer. Kurt was more than handsome – he was, simply, drop-dead gorgeous. Blaine remembered how the candle light last night had subtly caught and highlighted the freckles on Kurt’s pale cheeks. His perfectly upturned nose and long eyelashes all contributed to the elfin-like quality of his face. Blaine recalled the subtle strength in Kurt’s upper arms last night as he lifted Blaine up and supported Blaine’s weight effortlessly. He was a couple of inches taller than Blaine with a slimmer frame as well.

_Are you done, Blaine? Have you finished with the mental photo shoot?_

Blaine shook himself out of his reverie, drained the last of the coffee from his mug and gingerly stood up to hobble his way to the venue for his session with the Irish author Eoin Colfer.

*****

“Excuse me, sir? Are you Blaine Anderson?” Blaine turned carefully from his place in the queue to face the voice at his elbow. She was a slight, young woman about his height, dressed in the festival volunteer uniform of black trousers and white shirt, sporting an official badge that read: ‘London Book Festival.’

“I am,” acknowledged Blaine, surprised and a little confused.

“Sir, please would you step out of the queue and follow me,” she requested and Blaine did so before he thought to question why.

“Is there a problem?” he asked in concern, as he limped painfully beside her, grateful that she was walking slowly enough for him to keep up.

“No, no problem at all, sir. Mr Hummel asked if I would be kind enough to find you in the queue and get you off your injured foot as soon as possible. We can go in here, through this door and get you comfortably settled in a seat in the room before the hordes arrive.”

Blaine was both flattered and touched at Kurt’s generous attention and care. He smiled at the volunteer.

“How did you know it was me out there?” he asked and she laughed in response.

“Mr Hummel told me to go outside and look for a hobbit!” she replied, grinning, “and I did!” 

Blaine chuckled with her before sinking down into the seat she provided which was off to the side in the first row. He was more than grateful to be off his feet because, honestly, his foot was hurting quite a bit again. The swelling had gone down considerably overnight and he had been thrilled to be able to get his shoe on before breakfast. However, he could feel the aching throb beginning up again as his ankle complained of the day’s activities. 

He scrounged in his messenger bag for the Ibuprofen Kurt had magically rustled up last night and quickly swallowed two tablets just as the doors to the venue opened and the general public came in to take their seats. Blaine smiled at the numerous mothers who had arrived with their young children to meet Kurt Hummel. When there were no seats left, the lights dimmed slightly and a recorded voice welcomed the audience to the festival and outlined the general etiquette of an Author Q&A Session.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please welcome to the stage Mrs Yvonne Cresswell and the author of _Blaze – Champion Crime Fighter,_ Mr Kurt Hummel.” Blaine thought the recorded voice sounded just as excited as the crowd which erupted immediately with a roar of approval.

Blaine found himself clapping enthusiastically along with the audience as the lights went up and Kurt himself stepped through a side door and walked up to the slightly elevated platform just a few metres in front of Blaine. His smile was broad and Blaine saw that his eyes were creased as his face radiated genuine happiness at the rapturous welcome he had just received. Kurt waved pleasantly at the crowd and took his seat alongside the festival interviewer, Yvonne Cresswell. When the noise subsided, Yvonne cleared her throat and addressed the crowd.

“Welcome everyone to this much anticipated Q&A session with Mr Kurt Hummel – author of the phenomenal children’s series, _Blaze_.” 

Blaine thought she might have wanted to continue but the spontaneous applause from the audience silenced her. Kurt took that moment to glance around the room at the audience, smiling his thanks at everyone, until his eyes found Blaine off to his left at the side of the room. They seemed to settle on Blaine’s face for a while and when Blaine gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up sign – he thought Kurt’s grin might have even gotten wider.

“I was thrilled when the festival asked me to facilitate this particular session because my children and I have loved Blaze’s adventures since book one and we’ve kept up to date with the series. So, welcome to London, Kurt and welcome to the festival,” continued Yvonne eventually.

“Thank you for those kind words, Yvonne.” Kurt’s voice was clear and strong and … _quite magical_ Blaine thought. 

“I’ve had a wonderful week at the festival so far and am thoroughly enjoying this weekend. But, before we get started, do you think I could indulge in a little tradition I started about three years ago?”

“A crowd selfie!” yelled out a chubby little boy near the front and the cry was taken up by the younger members of the audience. 

“A selfie! A selfie!” they chanted, rallying the troops.

Kurt smiled in pleasure at the children’s demand and, with Yvonne’s nod of consent, he climbed off the stage and crouched low in front of the first row raising his phone in front of his face.

“Everybody, say ‘Blaze’,” instructed Yvonne from the front and the entire audience grinned for Kurt Hummel’s crowd selfie.

Thanking the children closest to him by patting several backs, Kurt got up once more and returned to the stage where Yvonne was waiting, ready with her first question. As she spoke, Kurt’s gaze slid again across to his left and found Blaine – the cheesiest grin plastered over the latter’s face and his hands clasped together under his chin as if in prayer. Before turning his attention back to Yvonne, Kurt’s mouth twitched with suppressed humour as Blaine mouthed the word “dork” at him.

*****

Blaine was still seated in his chair by the time the very last person had left the venue. He had decided to wait for the crush of bodies to leave before beginning his own exit. Although the painkillers had worked wonders to dull the throbbing in his ankle, his whole body felt achy and tired now. It had been a long day and Blaine was ready to admit he was exhausted.

But, he was also exhilarated. This last session with Kurt had been riveting. Blaine had revised his earlier description of Kurt to read not just talented, but truly gifted. Kurt had held the audience in the palm of his hand as he spun tales of adventure, of daring and of danger. He had had the adults laughing with his subtle deprecating stories of growing up in small-town homophobic Lima. 

Blaine had been taken aback as Kurt referred briefly to being bullied in his high school but he laughed with the rest of the audience as Kurt exhorted the children to be kind to one another “because you never know if the child you bully will grow up to be a writer and base his villain on you!” 

Blaine sat in the chair and thanked his lucky stars that the Fates had singled him out last night to be on the receiving end of Kurt Hummel’s Grande non-fat mocha.

“Mr Anderson?” 

The same festival volunteer was back at his side.

‘Oh? ...um… hi,” Blaine was startled out of his reverie and apologised. “You probably need me to leave. Sorry, yeah, I’m just going to get going. One minute, please.”

‘No, no not at all,” she gestured for him to remain in his chair. “Stay as long as you need, this venue won’t be used again until tomorrow so you’re just fine where you are. It’s just…” She handed Blaine a slim white envelope. “… Mr Hummel asked me to give you this, Sir.”

Blaine recognised the stationery from the hotel and saw his name was printed neatly in block letters on the front.

“Thank you,” Blaine replied and the volunteer bade him farewell as she made her way towards the exit.

Blaine slid his finger between the flap and ripped the envelope open. Inside was a neatly folded piece of paper. Intrigued, he straightened the note and a small card – much like a credit card - fell onto his lap.

He began to read.

 

_**Blaine** _

**_We didn’t discuss tonight’s sleeping arrangement. Forgive me if this is presumptuous but if you wanted to stay over again this evening, please feel free to use this spare key card to let yourself in and make yourself at home. I reckon that ankle could do with a long soak. If, however, you’d prefer to go to your friend’s apartment, I understand completely._ **

**_It was truly awesome to meet you and I’d love to stay in touch._ **

**_Kurt_ **

<


	4. Chapter 4

So lost in his thoughts was he that the soft ‘ping’ of the elevator announcing its arrival at his desired floor caught Kurt unawares. He sighed heavily, stepped out and adjusted the strap of the messenger bag on his shoulder. He was tired, exhausted really. Although fun, it had been a long and busy day and Kurt recognised that he was coming down from an adrenaline high.

He had loved the Q&A session with Yvonne because the audience had been eager and receptive. Afterwards, as he signed innumerable books and chatted with fans both young and old, he realised again just how much he loved what he was doing. Everyone had been full of compliments for his books and his talent and many had pleaded with him to continue to feed them more “ _Blazing Adventures_ ”. 

As he walked down the hotel corridor, he recalled the serious question of one particular young fan.

“When will _Blaze_ be a movie, Mr Kurt,” the earnest young boy had asked.

It was actually a question Kurt had begun to think about a lot lately and he knew that after the US nationwide book tour in the coming months, this would be an answer he was determined to seek. 

But, right now, he had more pressing issues at hand. He had reached the door of his hotel suite but was hesitant to open it and enter. He was sure that he wouldn’t be able to deal with his disappointment if Blaine was not there. _Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_ He admonished himself. _You should never have invited him to stay another night. You’re just setting yourself up for disappointment. He’s married, Kurt. Married – as in… in love with another man and actually … MARRIED … to him._

Sighing, Kurt reached into a side pocket of his messenger bag and retrieved the key-card that would open the door.

_I do care that his ankle is hurting though, after all it’s entirely my fault that he’s injured. He is a great guy and I do really think we could be good friends but perhaps he decided to go to Wes’ apartment anyway._

With that thought, Kurt inhaled deeply and prepared to enter an empty suite. The light on the keypad flashed green allowing him entry and the door clicked open. Although it was dark inside the living room, a flickering light from the wall unit indicated to Kurt that the television was on but he could barely make out a sound because the volume was set on low. As he moved further into the room and his eyes adjusted to the dim light, Kurt became aware of a body lying on the sofa. Propped up by several pillows from off his bed, Blaine was half sitting, half lying on the sofa with his leg propped up on the coffee table and the rug from his bed was draped over the lower half of his body. Kurt’s stomach flipped as he noticed Blaine was hugging one of the sofa cushions against his chest. He had obviously had a soak in the tub because, once again, his damp curls were clinging to his head and forehead. Kurt could see that the shirt he’d had on during the day had been replaced by a navy blue T-shirt of sorts. Without a sound, Kurt placed the brown carrier bag he held in his hand on the floor beside the sofa and then quietly let himself into his own bedroom.

Half an hour later, freshly showered and wearing casual grey sweat pants and a plain black T-shirt, he sat down on his bed and rang Room Service. When they promised that the sushi would arrive within 15 minutes, Kurt decided to wake Blaine.

He opened the inter-leading door to find the other man stirring in his sleep and Kurt paused in the doorway to drink in the sight. _Chad,_ he thought, _I hope you know how lucky you are to wake up beside that man every morning._

Blaine opened his eyes lazily, blinked rapidly and Kurt could almost see the range of thoughts pass through Blaine’s head as he took time to register where he was. He turned his head and found Kurt staring at him– his frame silhouetted in the doorway by the bedroom light.

“Hey Kurt,” Blaine greeted, his voice thick with sleep. “When did you get home?”

Kurt’s tenuous hold on propriety almost slipped at Blaine’s casual use of the word ‘ _home’_ but he managed to rein in his emotions and answer steadily.

“About half an hour ago,” he replied as he walked closer to the sofa. “I’m so glad you took me up on my offer.”

“Kurt, you didn’t have to but I am so grateful – _again_! I was really exhausted after your session – which totally rocked by the way – so, it was awesome to be able to come back here, relax in the bath and then just chill here on the sofa. How did the book signing go afterwards?”

Kurt smiled and Blaine loved the way the man’s cheeks coloured at the compliment.

“Thank you,” Kurt replied. “I enjoyed it myself. There was a huge queue afterwards for book signing otherwise I would have been back sooner.” He sat down next to Blaine and regarded the other man.

“I hope you’re hungry because I ordered sushi,” he stated.

Blaine smiled broadly. “Sushi would go down very well right now, thank you.”

Kurt got up and walked towards the mini bar asking over his shoulder if he could pour Blaine a glass of wine to which Blaine agreed. Once Kurt had settled back on the sofa again, and each man had a glass of red wine in their hand, Blaine spoke up.

“Can I propose the toast tonight?” 

Kurt smiled curiously. “You may, Hobbit, you may,” and he waved his hand regally.

Blaine grinned at the man beside him on the sofa and collected his thoughts.

“I … well, I just wanted to say … um … thanks. Thanks for everything, Kurt. For helping me last night, for offering me accommodation; for feeding me but most of all, for allowing me in; for allowing me to get to know you. I’m am more in awe of your achievements now than I was before I got to know you and I know I shall take the memory of this weekend here with you to the old-age home with me one day.”

Kurt’s eyes were watery as he cocked his head to the side and repeated curiously, “To the old age home, Hobbit?” Blaine laughed sheepishly.

“My Gran always told me to make wonderful memories throughout my life so that when I have lonely days in an old age home one day, I can take the memories out and replay them in my mind,” Blaine explained quietly, keenly aware of Kurt’s teary eyes. “ ‘Blaine, she say, ‘Always have something to remember, my boy.’ ” Kurt nodded in understanding and tried to swipe away the treacherous tears on the back of his hand.

“It sucks a bit that such brilliant advice was given to me by a woman who now has absolutely no memories at all.” Blaine tried to lighten the mood and Kurt’s laugh was hollow. Blaine raised his glass at Kurt who mimicked his action.

“To something to remember, Kurt,” Blaine toasted and the other man nodded in agreement.

“Something to remember,” Kurt repeated quietly and, whilst they each took a sip, neither took their eyes off the other. Blaine swallowed, lowered his glass and his eyes and then Kurt’s voice filled the silence.

“And …. speaking of remembering,” he began in a carefully crafted cheerful tone, “I managed to remember this.” He lifted the brown carrier bag off the floor and handed it to Blaine who looked aghast at the Ralph Lauren logo on the side of the bag.

“You didn’t,” he gasped and peeped inside the bag. “Kurt, you shouldn’t have.”

“I ruined your other one so it was only right that I replace it, Hobbit,” explained Kurt, his eyes twinkling in delight at the sight of Blaine’s shocked face.

“But Kurt, you know it was _not_ a Ralph Lauren shirt – you still told me that yourself,” Blaine admonished and teased at the same time.

“Hmm, you know Blaine, don’t tell anyone this but, on the _very_ odd and very _rare_ occasion, I have been known to be wrong,” Kurt smirked.

“No sir, I do not believe that,” Blaine continued to tease as he pulled out the shirt, folded and wrapped in soft tissue paper and tied with a ribbon. “It’s too much Kurt. I simply can’t accept this from you.”

“You can and you must. I insist and I don’t want to hear anything more about it. When you wear it the first time, you can send me a photo and then my conscience will be appeased,” Kurt instructed.

Blaine was about to protest some more when the doorbell chimed, effectively ending their argument as Kurt got up to admit the Room Service waiter into the room. Over red wine and sushi Blaine and Kurt continued to chat about the Q&A session and Kurt told Blaine of the little boy’s question regarding a movie version of Blaze’s first adventure.

“I’d obviously love to, you know, although there’s still quite a bit for me to finish off this year. Perhaps next year might be the right time to consider the film option,” he explained. “I’d have to chat to Santana about it.”

“Santana?” Blaine looked up from his food in confusion. Kurt chuckled at the sight of Blaine’s contorted face as he tried to speak _and_ negotiate the sushi between the chopsticks into his mouth without dripping soya sauce all over his T-shirt at the same time.

“Yeah, Santana - the best and worst friend in the world. She’s been a stalwart for me over the years acting as editor at one stage, publicist and manager – all rolled into one. There are days I would happily dance on her grave and other days when I know that I would be nothing without her and remember to thank her. Ours is a love-hate relationship which works for both of us. I knew her when we were both in Glee club together in high school when she was a total bitch. We’ve both come a long way since then, although she can still be a bitch when she wants to, but I guess, so can I!”

Blaine laughed at the description. “She sounds awesome,” he acknowledged. “I’m glad you have someone like that in your life.”

“I’m supposed to meet with her in a week or two to discuss the final plans for the book tour this spring so perhaps then we can chat about freeing up my time to work on a screenplay version of the first book.” 

Although he’d only known the author just over 24 hours, Blaine already could see a certain look appear on Kurt’s face – one that he identified as sheer determination. Blaine was surprised at how desperately he wanted this young man to succeed and for all his dreams to come true.

“And what about you, Hobbit?” asked Kurt. “What wonderful plans do you have up your sleeve for the future, huh?”

“It’s funny you should ask that,” replied Blaine. “This weekend was a brief respite from an insane schedule of middle school musical rehearsals.” Blaine grinned as he saw Kurt’s eyes light up at the word ‘musical’.

“A musical?” he exclaimed excitedly. “You’re rehearsing a musical? Oh, I love musicals! Which one? Where? When? Come on Hobbit, I need details!”

Blaine laughed out loud. “Gosh, Kurt – excited much? What are you – twelve?”

“Yes,” replied his friend punching Blaine’s arm lightly, “I’m an honest-to-goodness, unashamed musical addict. Come on, Blaine, spill; what are you staging?”

“I reworked the original _Little Shop of Horrors_ into a musical my middle school students could pull off. It’s called _Little School of Horrors_ and it’s set in a school cafeteria,” Blaine replied allowing just a small hint of pride to creep into his voice.

Kurt grabbed his arm in delight. “Blaine that’s totally awesome! How wonderful. When do you open? How long will it run?” Kurt’s delight was obvious and Blaine found his heart swelling at the thought that _this_ man, this _successful_ man thought that something Blaine was doing was awesome.

“It’s middle school, Kurt – we’ll only have one night,” Blaine replied, beaming delightedly at his friend’s enthusiastic response. “Hopefully we’ll be ready in six weeks … on Friday, the 25th April.”

“When you say you’ve ‘reworked’ the original, Blaine – what do you mean?” Kurt asked nodding his head.

“Well, I’ve kept the original plot line but changed some of the characters to fit in with the school setting. So instead of the dentist, we have a school janitor and the original shop owner is the school principal. Although I’ve kept some of the songs, I’ve also introduced some more modern tunes as well and I changed the lyrics to suit our story.”

“And are you doing all of this by yourself?” Kurt wanted to know. _Shit! He is so talented. Could he be even more perfect?_

“No, gosh no. I’m the Musical Director and therefore responsible for the music – the orchestra and piano accompaniment and the general staging of the show, but Nick has taken on the responsibility of the scenery, backdrops and props because well, he teaches Art and is seriously talented. A couple of the female teachers are helping us with costumes and one or two of the children’s mothers have offered to help with make-up,” Blaine explained.

“Blaine, what does Jeff teach?” Kurt asked, realising he hadn’t heard Jeff’s name on the crew list.

“Oh, no, Jeff doesn’t teach at all. He’s a commercial artist actually and does pretty well. His art is displayed and sold from a gallery on the High Street in Southampton. I think if Jeff had to teach he would go stark raving mad within a day.”

Kurt laughed at that.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Blaine was quick to explain. “Jeff loves children and he’s really good with them. It’s just he wouldn’t cope with the structure and administrative nonsense involved with teaching, you know? He’s an artist – a truly creative spirit. Soon after they got married, Nick built him a studio in the garden of their home and he spends his days there and sometimes his nights too.”

Kurt smiled wistfully at Blaine. “They sound like such an awesome couple, Blaine. I don’t have anyone in my life remotely like them. You are very lucky.”

Blaine smiled at Kurt softly. “You’re right, you know, I am. And now I’ve got you in my life so I’m even luckier!”

Unable to respond for fear of the threatening tears, Kurt drained his glass and then cleared away the dinner dishes, placing them on the dining room table for Housekeeping to remove in the morning. As he stood up, he suggested that Blaine find a movie on the television for them to watch.

“Any particular movie you want to see?” asked Blaine as he scrolled through the hotel’s menu screen.

“No, you pick,” replied Kurt as he settled back down on the sofa and shivered.

“You cold?” asked Blaine. “We could share this blanket.”

“Thanks,” replied Kurt as he moved closer and spread the blanket out over the two of them. The movie started and Kurt grinned at Blaine in the darkness.

“You are such a dork,” he laughed. “I love this movie.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt was grateful that the arrival of his Caesar salad and Santana’s wild mushroom risotto earned him a respite from her interrogation but as soon as the wait staff had left them alone, she re-launched her attack.

“So, Luscious Lips, you expect me to believe that you two slept together but didn’t _sleep_ together?”

“Yes, Santana,” Kurt’s tone was exasperated, “that’s exactly what I’m asking you to believe because that’s exactly what happened.”

Santana took a long sip of her white wine and regarded her old school friend seriously. Under her scrutiny, Kurt lowered his eyes and paid close attention to his Caesar salad as his mind wandered back to a London hotel room the previous week.

_It was the crick in his neck that forced Kurt awake eventually and it took him a moment or two to unravel the confusion in his sleepy mind to register where he was._

_A hotel room?_

_Yeah, that’s right…_

_In…?_

_London…_

_And I’m sitting/lying on…?_

_The sofa…._

_Right, okay… um… Why?_

_As he vaguely noted the hotel’s main menu screen displayed on the television in front of him, Kurt became aware of an unfamiliar weight on his chest. He looked down to find a head of curls resting there and, as his eyes travelled further, he noticed an arm that definitely wasn’t his flung casually across his stomach._

_Memory and understanding came flooding back as Kurt realised that he and Blaine had fallen asleep while watching Moulin Rouge. While they slept, it appeared that Blaine had gotten very comfortable and tucked himself into Kurt’s left side with no qualms at all. Kurt tensed at the compromising position and looked quickly at the television screen to ascertain the time. The digital clock read: 02:13._

_“Blaine?” whispered Kurt bending his head down to reach the curls. There was no response from the sleeping man. Having decided that he would have to shake Blaine to wake him up, Kurt was mortified to discover his own treacherous left arm was resting comfortably around Blaine’s shoulder. Quickly, Kurt jerked it away as if struck by something hot. He held his arm up awkwardly in the air, not quite knowing where to place it. Eventually, he laid the untrustworthy arm along the top of the sofa out of harm’s way. Because his right arm had been lying innocently at his side on the sofa, it was this arm Kurt decided to use to wake Blaine by gently tapping the sleeping man’s arm which was curled too comfortably around Kurt’s stomach._

_“Blaine,” he repeated, a little louder this time and a little desperately too because the action of tapping Blaine’s arm was tugging at his heart strings._

_“Come on, Hobbit, you’ve got to wake up.” he insisted._

_Blaine groaned sleepily and pressed his hand into Kurt’s stomach as he attempted to lift himself._

_“Wha’?” he asked groggily. “Wassamatter?”_

_Really, the incomprehensible man was too adorable in his fuzzy state._

_“Blaine, wake up; come on. We fell asleep during the move but we can’t sleep here,” Kurt tried to explain. Blaine finally registered what Kurt was saying and again tried to push himself off of Kurt’s side. This time he was successful and he sat up beside Kurt on the sofa, his eyes wide with astonishment._

_“Oh? Oh shit, I’m sorry,” he garbled. “It’s a bad habit – I’m a bit of a cuddler,” he explained, embarrassed._

_“No worries,” Kurt replied as nonchalantly as was possible despite his racing heart which begged to disagree._

_Blaine and Kurt finally managed to return all entangled limbs to their correct owner as Kurt continued to speak. “But, we really need you sleep on a bed otherwise you’ll be so sore you won’t be able to walk tomorrow at all.”_

_Suddenly realising just how badly this comment could be misconstrued given their current awkward situation, Kurt bit his lips in embarrassment and in the darkness he blushed scarlet._

_“Shit!” he exclaimed, “that came out wrong. I mean … you know … well…” he trailed off as Blaine’s giggle broke through his nervous chatter._

_“Hush, Kurt. It’s okay.” Blaine lifted his hand and placed his fingertips on Kurt’s mouth. “I understand completely.”_

_Kurt’s heart somersaulted in his chest at the soft touch of Blaine’s hands on his face and he stood up quickly, ostensibly to stretch out his cramped back muscles but really he needed to have Blaine’s fingers off his mouth before he did something stupid - like kiss them._

_Blaine’s sleepy eyes watched with interest as the T-shirt rode up, exposing Kurt’s back as the stretch continued. Eventually, Kurt turned back to Blaine and stretched out his arm._

_“Come on, I’ll help you up.” and Blaine started to laugh all over again as he raised an eyebrow at the suggestive comment._

_“Shit! You know what I mean! Hobbit, you aren’t helping at all!” Kurt started to laugh as well._

_“Comedy of errors, Kurt. Comedy of errors!” replied Blaine between giggles. “But you’re right, we should go to bed. Uh, to our beds – each to our own bed. After you, my good sir.”_

_At the door to his bedroom, Kurt stopped and looked back across the living room to where Blaine stood about to open his own bedroom door, his back to Kurt._

_“Goodnight Hobbit, sleep well,” he whispered, not sure if Blaine heard him or not._

Santana roared with laughter. “No, not awkward at all, Hummel. I bet you couldn’t get back to sleep after that, huh?”

Kurt laughed together with his friend. “You’re right – it took me ages to fall asleep again but in the morning, it wasn’t awkward at all. We had breakfast together, laughed and chatted as easily as we had done the day before.”

Santana nodded and then excused herself from the table to use the restroom. Kurt watched her sashay her hips, barely covered by the tight red mini dress, as she walked across the restaurant floor garnering the attention of just about every male in the establishment. When she got to the restroom door, she turned around to wink at Kurt. He laughed at her antics just as a message beeped on his phone and he reached out to pick it up from the table. From her position on the other side of the room, Santana did not miss the way her friend’s eyes creased in delight and the smile which lit up Kurt’s face as he looked at his phone.

[Blaine] **“How many years do you think I’d get for murdering the School Bursar?”**

[Kurt] “Hobbit! One never murders the purse strings!”

[Kurt] “Musical budget cuts, huh?”

**[Blaine] “Apparently it is “inexcusable” to spend _that_ amount on a ‘flower’ costume!”**

[Kurt] “Flower? Blaine! She called Audrey Two a flower?”

[Kurt] “She should be hung, drawn and quartered.”

**[Blaine] “Hung drawn and quartered huh? Tut tut! Such violence, Mr Hummel!”**

[Kurt] “Well, you are in England after all. Isn’t that what your lot does?”

[Kurt] “Here we’d just string ‘em up from the nearest tree branch.”

**[Blaine] “Ha! Did we teach you colonists nothing?”**

“Who are you texting, Luscious Lips?” Santana asked as she settled back into her seat opposite Kurt.

 

**[Blaine] “Kurt?”**

“And how is that any of your business, Santana?” asked Kurt mocked back.

“It’s him isn’t it? It’s your English werewolf!”

“Werewolf?” Kurt raised his eyebrow in confusion at Santana.

 

**[Blaine] “Ah, shucks I upset you didn’t I?”**

“Hobbit, Santana! He’s my English hobbit!” Kurt hissed in frustration at his friend and then watched the satisfied smirk stretch across the woman’s face.

 

[Kurt] “Sorry, no Santana was bugging me for an answer about something.”

[Kurt] “Colonists? Blaine! You called me a colonist!”

**[Blaine] “LoL! You know, I should introduce you to Wes – he’s still mourning the loss of the 13 original colonies!”**

[Kurt] “Ah, a sore English loser, huh?”

**[Blaine] “Hey, am I bugging you? Are you in a meeting with Santana?”**

Santana’s phone rang and with a swift glance at the caller ID, she told Kurt that she would take the call outside. It was Kurt’s turn to smirk. There was only one person who could grab Santana’s attention like that and bring _that_ look to the woman’s eyes. Kurt returned his attention to his phone and to Blaine.

 

[Kurt] “No, yes”

**[Blaine] “mmm ???”**

[Kurt] “No, you’re not bugging me. Yes, I’m in a meeting with Santana.”

**[Blaine] “Shit, sorry Kurt – I shouldn’t text you during a meeting. Cheers! Chat later.”**

[Kurt] “Swearing fine, Blaine! You are not bugging me – it’s a meeting - over lunch – how seriously can she expect me to take it?”

[Kurt] “Cheers? Blaine! Are you in a pub?”

**[Blaine] “Oh well, if you’re sure it’s okay to chat – and no, I’m not in a pub – thank you very much.**

**[Blaine] “Just finishing up a few changes to the music score for ‘Suddenly Seymour’.”**

[Kurt] “I love that song! I think it’s my favourite from the whole show. Rehearsals are going well then?”

**[Blaine] “Yeah, it’s my favourite too. And the young girl who will sing it for us has a phenomenal voice and really does the song justice.”**

**[Blaine] “But boy, does she have a diva attitude already!”**

[Kurt] “Ha! I may have gone to school with her predecessor!”

 

Kurt waited for a response as the waiter removed the last of the empty plates from his table and then asked if Kurt and his guest would like anything else. Kurt ordered coffee for himself, green tea for Santana and the waiter left to place the order.

[Kurt] “Blaine? You still there”

**[Blaine] “I was just thinking that I wish you could come and see the musical, Kurt. I’d love for you to see the children on stage.”**

[Kurt] “Wow! That would be awesome, wouldn’t it? I would love to see you, Blaine – your show, Blaine – it sounds wonderful and you’re so enthusiastic about your students’ accomplishments – I’d love to see that.”

 

Santana returned to the table with a light blush to her cheeks and a soft look in her eyes. She fished in her laptop bag for some papers.

 

[Kurt] “Blaine? Where’d you go?”

**[Blaine] “Is it possible, Kurt? Could you come?”**

Kurt picked up the papers Santana pushed across the table at him. It was the itinerary for his Spring Book Tour.

 

**[Blaine] “Kurt?”**

Santana had done well. She had planned a ten-state tour for Kurt to promote his latest _Blaze_ book.

 

**[Blaine] “…. I’ve overstepped haven’t I?”**

**[Blaine] “Kurt? I’m sorry.”**

As Santana began to explain a few details, Kurt zoned out and quickly scanned the itinerary.

“Really, Hummel, are you even listening to me?” she demanded.

 

[Blaine] **“I take it back! I don’t want to see you. I don’t want you to come.”**

“Just a minute, Santana; how negotiable are these dates?” he asked.

“You _are_ kidding me, aren’t you, PonyBoy? Because if you aren’t, I swear I will go all Lima Heights on your sorry ass. Do you know how long it has taken us to arrange this and finalise it?” Santana’s face clearly showed her disapproval right now.

“Okay, ‘Tana, relax! I just asked if it was possible and if you say no, well then, it’s obviously no.”

 

[Kurt] “Breathe Hobbit! I’m sorry; I was actually checking dates with Santana.”

**[Blaine] “You were?”**

**[Blaine] “….and?”**

[Kurt] “Blaine – I’m so sorry but your musical is on the last Friday of my book tour and Santana says there is absolutely no way I can re-schedule this at all.”

 

Santana watched Kurt’s face as his fingers flew over his phone continuing his conversation with his English friend. She frowned in concern. This wasn’t healthy.

 

[Kurt] “I’m so sorry.”

[Kurt] “Blaine?”

[Kurt] “Shit! – Where’d you go?”

 

Kurt looked up in agitation at Santana who was drumming her long nails on the table top and glaring at him. He shrugged at her in response.

 

**[Blaine] “Swear fine, Hummel! Hey it’s no problem – you’re busy - I get that. I shouldn’t have asked. I was out of line.”**

**[Blaine] “Besides, if you came to school, no one would even watch the musical – they’d all be fawning over Kurt Hummel – their favourite author!”**

[Kurt] “LoL! Seriously Blaine – I am sorry that we couldn’t make it happen. I would have loved to see you”

[Kurt] “…see you in action with your children.”

**[Blaine] “Hey Kurt, I gotta go. Chad will be home in about 10 mins. It was so great to chat. Take care now.”**

[Kurt] “Bye Blaine! Chat again, yeah?”

 

When Kurt finally laid his phone on the table again indicating to Santana that his conversation was over, she shook her head. 

“No way, Hummel!” she protested. “This is all wrong. This relationship is oceans apart and won’t work at all. If you think - .”

“It’s not a relationship, Santana,” Kurt objected, interrupting her sharply. “It’s a friendship. I told you –he’s married.”

“And yet, you seriously considered asking me to rearrange your book tour dates so you could go running off to ‘Old Blighty’ to see him again.” Santana was annoyed and it was evident in her sharp tone.

“It’s not like that at all, ‘Tana. He’s producing a musical….for his school and he wanted to know if I could see it …. He wanted me to see the musical. He’s proud of it and wanted me to see his kids...” Kurt’s argument petered out in the face of Santana’s full-scale ‘ _bitch please’_ glare and obvious lack of understanding.

“Nuh uh,” she shook her head. “This isn’t going to happen. I’m leaving you here now and I’m going to call a bunch of people and we are _all_ going to a bar tonight. Come hell or high water, I am going to get your sorry ass a date _here,_ in _this_ country, _this_ city.”

“Santana…” Kurt started to warn her as she stood up and gathered her things but she interrupted him again. “I’ll ring you later with the details.” Swinging her long black hair away from her face, she bent down and kissed Kurt on the cheek.

“Love you, Pony Boy,” she promised and swept out of the restaurant, belatedly telling the maître-d that Kurt would pay the bill.

Kurt watched her dramatic exit and sighed. He really didn’t want to go out to a bar that evening and he certainly didn’t want a date. 

_What I really want to do is to cuddle with Blaine one more time_. 

Kurt shook his head in agitation, raised his hand to request another coffee from the waiter and settled down to study the itinerary. His eyes kept falling on Friday 25th April when, according to Santana, he would be in New York signing books at the Barnes and Noble in Union Square but he knew his heart would be in another city, in fact, another country altogether. 

The coffee’s strong aroma captured his attention and allowed his thoughts to drift across the ocean and across time to the previous Sunday morning – his last morning with Blaine.

_“Don’t be silly, Hobbit,” Kurt said placing his empty coffee mug back on the table. “Of course I’m going to drop you at the train station.”_

_“No Kurt, really – you’ve done enough. Look my foot is much better. I can even place my weight on it.” Blaine demonstrated cautiously but Kurt remained unconvinced._

_“Blaine you could perform cartwheels through the suite right now and I wouldn’t care. I have a car and driver at my disposal to drive me to the airport and I insist that we stop on the way at Waterloo to drop you off.”_

_Kurt was adamant and Blaine was bundled into the backseat of the car beside Kurt before he could protest again. He turned to his friend and said, “You really are something else, Kurt. Thank you for making this weekend so memorable. I’m never going to forget you, you know.”_

_“Damn straight, you won’t” Kurt joked. “Now that I have your phone number I’ll be blowing up your phone continually.”_

_Blaine laughed. ‘”Do you think I may need to get a restraining order” he quipped but regretted the comment immediately he saw the shadow of pain cross Kurt’s eyes._

_“Shit! Kurt, did I say something wrong there?” he asked. Kurt shook his head in apology._

_“No, sorry Blaine – just an old wound, I guess,” he explained._

_“Can you tell me?” probed Blaine gently. “Only if you want to, that is” he hastened to add._

_Kurt took a deep breath and turned to face Blaine on the seat._

_“There was this Neanderthal in high school who made it his personal mission to make my life a living hell. He and his mates would toss me in the dumpsters outside the school, throw slushies at me on a daily basis until I realised that I would always need a change of clothing in my locker. He would push up against me in the corridors and shove me forcibly into the lockers. My body was covered in bruises that I hid carefully from my dad. I took it for as long as I could – months, in fact, until I really couldn’t anymore. One day, after he had pushed me into the lockers for the umpteenth time that day, I lost it and followed him into the boys’ change room to confront him.”_

_“Oh Kurt,” Blaine held his breath not knowing what was to come. Kurt took a deep breath and looked Blaine straight in the eye._

_“He kissed me, Blaine. He hate-kissed me and I pushed him away and then I …. I ran away. I ran all the way from the school to my dad’s garage and by the time I got there, I was a jabbering idiot. It took ages for me to calm down enough to tell my dad what had happened, what had been happening.”_

_Blaine had reached out and taken Kurt’s hand in his to offer comfort as the other man fought to regain control of his emotions. Kurt smiled weakly in gratitude._

_“My dad went to the school, raised all sorts of hell and threatened to get a restraining order. Eventually, the boy transferred to a different school and I felt safe enough to return. It was an awful time in my life, Blaine and I … I’ll never forgive him for stealing my first from me.”_

_Blaine nodded in agreement._

_“I can only imagine, Kurt. I’m so sorry. I’m guessing this Neanderthal is the embodiment of all the villains your young hero, Blaze, defeats in each novel, huh?”_

_Kurt grinned appreciatively. “Yeah, something like that._

_The privacy panel slid open for the chauffeur to announce their arrival at Waterloo train station. “I’m allowed only five minutes at the drop-off zone, Mr Hummel,” he warned. Kurt nodded his understanding and turned to Blaine who spoke first._

_“Kurt, I’m going to hug you. I hope that’s okay?” and Kurt nodded, words failing him at this point._

_Scooting closer to Kurt along the leather seat, Blaine gathered the slender man in his arms and held him close. Kurt’s arms slid around Blaine’s waist and his head rested momentarily on Blaine’s shoulder as he returned the hug. The moment was heavy with much unsaid._

_“I’m never saying goodbye to you,” Kurt stated._

_“I know,” Blaine whispered in reply._

 

The insistent ringing of Kurt’s phone interrupted his thoughts. “Yes,” he answered irritably without first checking the caller id.

“Luscious Lips, put your glad rags on and be ready at 9pm. Mike and Tina will collect you and we’ll all meet downtown at Joe’s tonight.” Santana’s instruction brooked no argument and Kurt muttered his acceptance before shutting down the call.

*****

“This place is jamming!” Mike yelled over the music as he successfully manoeuvred through the crowd and set the drinks down on the table.

“Yes, it’s awesome,” agreed Tina loudly. “Good decision, Santana.” Santana rolled her eyes at Tina as if to say, ‘ _Do I make any others_?’ but Mike’s next comment caught the attention of both girls.

“It looks like Kurt is having a good time out there.”

Both Tina and Santana stood up from their seats in one of Joe’s private booths to get a better look at their friend on the dance floor. Santana was proud of Kurt’s efforts this evening. He looked super sexy in his skinny black jeans and black shirt. Right now, he was dancing with a blonde who couldn’t keep his hands off that gorgeous body. Kurt had his own hands draped around the man’s neck and, with his ear tipped close to the other man’s face, it was obvious he was trying to hear what his dance partner was saying over the loud music. As they watched, Kurt appeared to nod and, pulling his head away to look at the other man, he smiled coyly. Santana grinned at Tina and raised her thumbs in victory. This was exactly what Kurt needed to get over his English hobbit – his _married_ English hobbit.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Callum, that was awesome! Well done, lad.”

The boy standing beside Blaine at the piano grinned at his teacher. “Me mam’s been making me practise every night, Mr Anderson. She’s ever so excited for the show.” Callum’s Irish accent was obvious as he spoke and Blaine beamed at the lilting sound.

“And well she should be, young man,” interjected Nick from the stage where he was kneeling on a large canvas surrounded by pots of different coloured paint. “That was the best I’ve heard so far,” he praised, waving a wet paint brush at Callum and his music teacher.

Callum blushed but his gratitude was obvious in his broad smile. “Cheers, Mr Duval.”

Blaine patted him on the back and said, “You keep on practising _that_ hard, Callum and we’ll have you ready for the West End theatres in no time.”

“Thanks, Mr Anderson,” Callum laughed. “If we’re done then, I’ll go help with the set painting, shall I?”

“Yes,” agreed Blaine. “That would be very helpful. You can see that some of Mr Duval’s Art Club students are helping out today but I bet they could do with more hands.” He turned to face Nick, “That right, Mr D?”

“Absolutely,” agreed Nick. “The more the merrier. I really want to have this ‘Skid Row’ set finished by the end of the week. Come paint bricks here with Simon, Callum.”

Blaine watched Callum settle in next to Simon who immediately began to show the young singer what needed to be painted and how Simon should do it. Blaine caught Nick’s eye and smiled at the burgeoning friendship between the two boys. He was glad that Simon felt comfortable around Callum. Simon was Nick’s “pet project” as Jeff called him. Orphaned at three and shifted from one unsuitable foster home to another for eight years before being placed, quite recently, with a stable family within their school community, young Simon’s emotional walls were slowing being breached by the patient ministrations of his Art teacher. Although he had flatly refused to participate in the musical, he had warmed to the idea of painting sets with Nick.

“That’s perfect, guys. Keep going. There’s still a lot of wall to be painted.” Nick placed his own paintbrush down to soak in a plastic container of turpentine and stood up to join Blaine at the piano. As he slid onto the chair beside Blaine, he bumped shoulders with his oldest friend.

“It’s all starting to come together really well, B,” he enthused. Blaine’s fingers continued to run up and down the piano gently coaxing the tune of ‘ _Somewhere that’s green’_ from the yellow-stained keys of the old school piano and he hummed in agreement.

“It is, Nick. I’m so glad we decided to do this for the kids. They’re enjoying it so much,” Blaine replied softly.

Nick watched as his friend got lost in his head when Blaine suddenly played a striking chord and started a different melody which was unfamiliar to Nick. It was hauntingly beautiful and Nick’s eyes followed Blaine’s hands up and down the keyboard becoming mesmerised himself, by the sight of those long fingers stretching effortlessly over the keys, gently encouraging the melodious sound from the ageing instrument.

“That’s new,” he remarked and Blaine nodded his head once in agreement but continued to play, his eyes closing in concentration. 

“It’s beautiful, Blaine,” Nick complimented easily.

The jarring sound of a message alert beeping on Blaine’s phone and causing it to vibrate softly on top of the piano made Blaine open his eyes and reach for the phone with his left hand whilst still playing with his right. Nick saw his friend’s hand halt on the keys when he read the name of the sender.

 

**[Kurt] “Blaine! I swear she is the very devil!”**

“Uh, Nick, sorry, I’ve got to get this, mate,” Blaine apologised and stood up, his thumb flicking the screen open and hurriedly typing a reply.

“Sure,” Nick acquiesced and returned to his place on the floor of the stage with the rest of the kids from where he kept a close eye on his best friend while still chatting to his budding artists.

 

[Blaine] “Um.. Kurt? Who is?”

**[Kurt] “Santana – her mother must have had an inkling when she was born. I mean, why else would you call your daughter that?”**

[Blaine] “Rough day, huh?”

**[Kurt] “Bleh, the roughest.”**

[Blaine] “Hey, just think in a week you’ll be off on your whirlwind book tour and you won’t have to worry about her.”

**[Kurt] “BLAINE ! She’s decided she’s coming on tour with me!”**

[Blaine] “Shit!”

[Blaine] “…and I’ll happily pay the fine. Why does she want to come with?”

**[Kurt] “New York Blaine – She wants to go to New York and I’m her free bloody ticket there!”**

[Blaine] “Just tell her ‘No’ Kurt – You can do it.”

[Blaine] “I believe in you, Kurt.”

**[Kurt] “You’re so not funny, Hobbit – I can no more say no to Santana than you can to those middle- schoolers who have you wrapped around their individual little pinkies.”**

[Blaine] “Then you’ll have to suck it up, Kurt.”

[Blaine] “Hey, will you have time to see a show while you’re in NYC?”

**[Kurt] “Yep – that’s what’s allowing me to get over the devil gate-crashing this trip – I’m making her take me to see _Wicked_.”**

[Blaine] “Best. Show. Ever.”

**[Kurt] “Well, duh, obviously yes, besides _Little School of Horrors_ opening soon in the UK, huh?”**

[Blaine] “You betcha!”

**[Kurt] “So gangsta Hobbit! So, what are you doing right now?”**

[Blaine] “I just finished a rehearsal with the soloists and Nick’s got a few of his Art Club kids painting sets.”

**[Kurt] “Promise you’ll take pictures, Blaine?”**

[Blaine] “Of course we will. One of the dads in the school is a professional photographer and he has agreed to take photographs for us.”

[Blaine] “Also, Jeff said he’d record the whole thing on video for us.”

**[Kurt] Yay! Then you can load it on YouTube where I can watch it and the whole world can see how insanely talented you are.”**

[Blaine] “Hmm… coming from someone who has not ever heard me perform, I’d say your worldwide praise is a little premature, wouldn’t you?”

**[Kurt] “I have.”**

[Blaine] “Have what?”

**[Kurt] “I have heard you.”**

[Blaine] “What do you mean you have heard me?”

[Blaine] Kurt?

**[Kurt] “I couldn’t sleep a couple of nights ago and I got lost in the wormhole of ‘2am-YouTube’ and I may or may not have found you. Well, I found a G &S musical your school did about twelve years ago.”**

[Blaine] “No way! Someone posted ‘Pirates of Penzance’ on YouTube? Shit! How embarrassed am I now on a scale of none-at-all to bury-me-please?”

**[Kurt] “You shouldn’t be. Okay, granted the recording was rather poor quality but Blaine, you were…”**

**[Kurt] “… you were amazing. Your voice is awesome.”**

**[Kurt] “Is it creepy that I watched you sing ‘ _I am the very model of a modern major general’_ on loop for about an hour?”**

[Blaine] “Yes, very creepy.”

[Blaine] “You need therapy … urgently!”

**[Kurt] “LoL! Nah, just admit it Hobbit – you are insanely talented. Own it!”**

[Blaine] “Thank you Kurt. It means a lot coming from you.”

[Blaine] “Kurt?”

**[Kurt] “Yeah, sorry I’m here but I don’t think I can chat for much longer. My dad’s trying to get ahold of me.”**

[Blaine] “Oh, okay. It was great to chat, Kurt, take care.”

**[Kurt] “Yeah, you too Major General Anderson, Sir! LoL!”**

Blaine closed his phone with a private smile on his face and looked up just as Nick announced that it was time for the painters to finish up for the day. Blaine sat back down at the piano and resumed his tune from earlier while the children packed up their art supplies and bade farewell to their teachers. In just under ten minutes Blaine and Nick were alone in the auditorium. 

Nick rolled up the design sheet, stowed it away in a cabinet backstage and made his way back to the piano. He picked up Blaine’s messenger bag from off the floor but it tipped over and a couple of Blaine’s files and a few papers fell out, together with a hard-back novel which landed face down on the floor.

“Shit! Buckity Fuck!” cursed Nick as he bent down to pick up the mess. Blaine sprang up from the piano to help but Nick waved him away.

“No don’t, Blaine, I’ve got this. I’m bloody sorry, mate,” he apologised.

“Nick, it was an accident, please don’t worry. Let me just…” Blaine reached out to retrieve the book but before he could, Nick had scooped it up in his hands.

“What’s this?” he asked turning it over to read the title. His eyes widened when he saw the name of the author and he began to turn the first few pages

“This him?” he asked excitedly and Blaine nodded.

“Blainers buddy! What a bloody lark! I’m best mates with a guy who’s got a bona fida celebrity author as a friend.” Nick stopped talking as he found the page with Kurt’s signature- only it wasn’t just his signature.

“ _Blaine_ ,” Nick read aloud, “ ‘ _It was so lovely bumping into you in London! Warmest affection, Kurt_.’ ” Nick paused with his hand tracing the remarkably neat heandwriting and he looked up at Blaine inquisitively. “ _Warmest_ _affection,_ Blaine? Really? What does that even mean?”

Blaine grabbed the book away from Nick and shrugged. “I told you, Duval, he bumped into me, we crashed and I hurt my ankle. He helped me take care of it and we got chatting. I eventually stayed overnight in his hotel suite because I couldn’t travel all the way to Wes’ place. We got on well and now we’re friends.”

Nick studied Blaine thoughtfully; hearing what his friend was saying but also listening carefully to what Blaine was _not_ saying. Nick was not one to judge, but both he and Jeff had noticed something was different about Blaine since his return from London. At first, they’d simply blamed the foot injury and general fatigue from a busy weekend in the famous city, and then, later they blamed his quiet introspection on the stress and pressure of the upcoming musical. But now, as Nick helped Blaine repack his bag with the retrieved music sheets and files, he wondered if Blaine’s chance encounter with the author, Kurt Hummel, had anything to do with his friend’s strangely melancholic behaviour of late. 

About to head out, he turned to Blaine one last time.

“Blaine, mate? Are you alright?”

Blaine caught the worry in his friend’s voice and looked up from the piano seat. He smiled at Nick and nodded.

“Yeah, Nick, I’m fine. Lots going on in my head right now, but I’m good.”

“Okay, great then,” replied Nick. “Don’t forget Jeff and I are expecting you and Chad for dinner on Friday night, yeah?”

Blaine nodded and Nick left the auditorium through the side entrance. Blaine turned back to the piano. He picked up his phone again, flicked open the screen and quickly began to type.

 

**[Blaine] “I hope your dad’s okay.**

**[Blaine] I wanted to tell you earlier but got side tracked. The school governors have agreed to buy a baby grand piano in time for the show!”**

[Kurt] “Thanks Blaine, he’s fine. He just wanted to confirm dates with me. I can’t believe I agreed to sign books in Lima – always vowed I’d never return after graduation.”

[Kurt] “Yay, for a baby grand! They obviously know talent when they hear it, hey?”

**[Blaine] “I think the thought of a brand new instrument has inspired me – I’ve started to compose again.”**

[Kurt] “Well, there you go then. My point is proven. What is your new piece called?”

**[Blaine] “uh, … um … it’s not finished yet, so … I guess… an ‘untitled composition in progress’?”**

[Kurt] “Wow! That’s a mouthful. Exciting stuff. Will I get to hear it?”

**[Blaine] “You’ll be the first, Kurt.”**


	7. Chapter 7

As he entered the coffee shop, Kurt shook his head and, not for the first time, questioned his decision to agree to this date with Matthew. Yes, they had fun at the bar last week and Matthew had proved to be an extraordinary dancer. At the end of the evening when the Los Angeles banker had asked for Kurt’s number, Kurt had been a little drunk and a little lonely and so he had punched his number into Matthew’s phone thinking little of it. Although, since Matthew’s phone-call to secure a date, Kurt had been thinking a lot about it and he wasn’t surprised at his ambivalence.

“So? You go on a date with him, maybe get your head out of your own ass for a bit,” Santana had chided him when Kurt tried to explain why he shouldn’t see Matthew. “It’s not a marriage proposal, Kurt. It’s called fun; something that has been seriously lacking in your life for a while.”

“I _have_ fun, Santana,” Kurt countered, fully prepared to substantiate his claim but gave up when she simply glared at him.

“Hummel, you’ve been buried in that new book for most of this year and ever since you returned from London, when you’re not typing away on your keyboard, you’re typing away on your phone to a certain English teacher. No, Kurt, _that_ is NOT fun. You need to get out of your house and mingle with the rest of us slobs in this city. Give Matthew a chance. You looked like you were having fun on the dance floor,” she argued.

“I did. We did. It _was_ fun, Santana, I admit. I did enjoy myself that evening, okay? But, dating? I’m not really interested. And besides, we leave on tour in two days.”

Eventually, Kurt had agreed to meet Matthew at the coffee shop near the offices of his publishers after his final book tour meeting on Friday afternoon. He figured for a first date, coffee over a light lunch was the safest.

“Hey, Good Looking,” whispered Matthew in Kurt’s ear before sliding into the seat opposite.

*****

Blaine turned around from the full length mirror in their bedroom to find Chad’s eyes fixed on him.

“What?” he asked self-consciously, tugging again at the bow tie around his neck. Chad walked slowly around their bed towards him, his eyes never leaving Blaine.

“You are seriously the _most_ gorgeous man on the planet,” he said simply and, reaching forwards, he slipped his fingers into Blaine’s belt loops and pulled his husband closer. Blaine stumbled forward into the embrace chuckling at the compliment. 

“Silly man,” he chastised, “we’re going to be late if we don’t get going soon.”

“Mmmm…” replied Chad, nuzzling Blaine’s neck as he inhaled the scent that was so specifically Blaine. “Nick and Jeff will understand,” he assured Blaine as his lips began a soft trail of kisses up Blaine’s neck to that spot just behind his ear that Chad knew would make his husband writhe in delight. “Miss you Blaine,” he breathed. “Miss you so much.”

Blaine managed to pull his head away from Chad’s mouth and, cradling his husband’s face in both his hands, he gazed deeply into Chad’s green eyes.

“Yeah?” he questioned softly. “Then stop working such late hours, Mr Hot Shot Lawyer,” he teased lightly but they both recognised the truth underlying the flippancy.

“I’m sorry Babe; it has been crazy and will still be for a while, I’m afraid. But, Honey, you know that everything I’m doing is so that we can have the life we dreamed of, right?” Chad spoke quietly and Blaine recognised the sincerity of the words. He pulled Chad’s face closer to his own until their lips were but a breath apart.

“ _You_ are the life I dreamed of Chad. I’m living my dream already,” he whispered into his husband’s mouth before capturing the man’s lips with his. Chad groaned and deepened the kiss, trying to take even more of Blaine’s mouth into his own. His tongue brushed against Blaine’s lips impatiently demanding entry and Blaine was quick to open his mouth to accept that probing, insistent tongue. Chad’s hands ran up and down Blaine’s back but when he started to pull the shirt up, Blaine broke away from him, laughing.

“Oh no, you don’t. I spent ages getting ready and I’m not arriving at Nick and Jeff’s all hot and bothered,” he chastised. Chad’s face fell in a grumpy pout and Blaine laughed again. “Not going to work, Chad, so save it.” Blaine picked up his jacket off the bed and headed out the room, still chuckling.

Chad caught up with him at the car and swung Blaine around into another tight embrace. “Don’t drink too much tonight, okay? I want you sober and ready for me when we get home,” and, winking at Blaine, he opened the door for his husband before walking around to the driver’s side.

*****

Kurt was laughing at Matthew’s story of the bank teller’s missing money when his phone beeped with an incoming message. He apologised to Matthew, explaining that it might be related to the book tour so he needed to read it. Matthew gestured for him to go ahead and signalled to the waitress for another refill for their table. Kurt picked up the phone and read the message.

**[Blaine] Do you want to have babies, Kurt?**

Kurt’s eyes widened in surprise and frowned in concern at the words on his screen as he read them again, unsure of what was going on in Blaine’s head right now. Quickly he calculated that it was about 10pm in Southampton and from what he could remember of their text conversation yesterday, Blaine should be at dinner with Nick and Jeff. He wondered what was going on. Quickly he typed out a reply.

[Kurt] “Woah, Blaine! Great conversation starter.”

Kurt closed his phone and returned his attention to Matthew who was pushing a second cup of coffee towards Kurt.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Kurt nodded trying to erase the frown from his forehead. “Yeah, … um … just last minute details you know.”

“So, a book tour, huh? I don’t read much, what does one do on a book tour?” Matthew asked.

*****

Blaine quickly pushed his phone back into his trouser pocket as Nick came into the kitchen carrying a couple of empty dishes.

“You okay there, Blainers?” he asked as he set the dishes down on the counter beside Blaine.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine thanks, mate. I … um …just needed some water.” Blaine coughed and then continued. “That was an excellent meal; Jeff outdid himself– thank you.”

“Well, you know Jeff,” Nick laughed as he began to load the dishwasher. “He loves trying out his new recipes on you and Chad. You guys are always so gracious …even when the meal’s a complete disaster.”

Blaine grinned but the smile didn’t reach his eyes and Nick noticed. “You sure you’re okay, Blaine?” he asked in concern. Blaine felt those eyes that knew him so well bore into his own, inviting a truthful answer.

“I’m great, Nick. I .. I’m … just going to use your guest loo a sec’,” Blaine explained as he left the kitchen in a hurry. Closing the door of the bathroom behind him, Blaine retrieved his phone and sank down on the tiled floor. Sliding his thumb across the panel, he read Kurt’s surprised reply. Quickly he began another text to his friend.

**[Blaine] “Nick and Jeff are going to have a baby.”**

*****

Kurt was quite glad that Matthew was in the cloakroom when the next text came in from Blaine. This was great news and Kurt responded immediately.

[Kurt] Blaine, that’s fantastic!

He didn’t have to wait long for Blaine’s next text although he kept an eye on the door leading to the bathrooms for any sign on his returning date.

**[Blaine] “Is it wrong to be very jealous, Kurt?”**

Kurt thought for a moment before replying.

[Kurt] “No, but be happy for them, Blaine.”

Kurt closed his phone as Matthew returned to their table and raised a questioning eyebrow as he caught the gesture.

“More last minute details?” he joked and Kurt shrugged in apology. He hadn’t mentioned his date to Blaine and so he couldn’t blame the Englishman for thinking that he was alone at home working in front of his computer because that had been the pattern of his days since his return from London. Blaine had become accustomed to being able to text Kurt whenever – obviously taking the eight hour time difference into account. 

“Well from what you tell me about this tour – there’s a lot to be taken into consideration.” Matthew was agreeably forgiving and Kurt was grateful because he didn’t want to appear rude. He smiled at his date and then asked Matthew to explain how the banks could justify the exorbitant annual CEO bonuses.

*****

Blaine studied the directive from Kurt and nodded his head. He _was_ happy for them, absolutely he was. It’s just, well, it’s just that he wished it was Chad and himself sharing that wonderful news. His husband had said on numerous occasions that Blaine would make a great father but that they would need to wait until Chad and Sebastian had the law firm up and running comfortably before they looked into the possibility of children. Blaine couldn’t help wonder when that would be. 

He stood up and pocketed the phone in his trousers again, then he splashed his face with water and patted it dry. Having evaluated in the mirror the success of the smile he plastered on his face, Blaine took a deep breath before he opened the door of the bathroom and stepped into the passage to return to the dining room.

His friends and his husband looked up as he entered the room. 

“Are you alright, Blaine?” Jeff asked in concern. ‘I hope I didn’t poison you.” Blaine’s smile widened at Jeff’s alarm.

“Goodness no, Jeff, not at all,” Blaine hastened to allay his friend’s fears as he sat down beside Chad at the table once more. Chad immediately wrapped his arm around Blaine’s shoulders and squeezed.

“You’ve been working him too hard, Nicholas Duval,” Chad complained. “I think he’s exhausted.” All three men looked at Blaine who blushed and waved away their attention.

“Nonsense, I’m fine,” he claimed as he reached for his wine glass. “I want to propose a toast.” The others at the table reached for their glasses too and then looked back expectantly at Blaine. Blaine coughed, took a deep breath and began.

“Nick, you’ve been my best friend since ... well, since forever and Jeff you’ve been my best friend’s love since forever too and I just want to say… I just want to say -” Blaine tried in vain to blink back the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes. Chad reached out his hand to rub encouragingly on Blaine’s thigh and Blaine took a deep breath to continue. 

“Nick, I’m …um…” Blaine paused, uncertain of his words. “I … I’m … I’m so … pleased for you and Jeff.” This is such good news. You two are going to be awesome fathers. I guess I’m just a little emotional,” he finished lamely as he wiped away at the tears. Nick put down his wine glass, stood up and walked around the table to Blaine’s side. He pulled his friend out of his chair and grabbed him into a bear hug. 

“This is huge, Nick, huge,” Blaine whispered in awe as he clung to his childhood friend as their embrace captured all that they couldn’t say.

“Thank you, Blainers,” Nick replied his voice thick with emotion too. “Your support means the world to me, to both of us.” From his place at the table Jeff nodded in agreement.

“Thank God I don’t wear mascara,” Jeff’s voice rang out into the silence that followed. “It would be totally ruined right about now and I would never forgive either of you!” Chad laughed at Jeff’s quip and raised his glass to Jeff.

“To babies,” he said and as Nick returned to Jeff’s side, Blaine watched as his friend gathered his husband in his arms and kissed him. Chad’s arm found Blaine and pulled him closer to himself as they sipped their wine.

*********

“No, Santana, _you_ need to listen to _me_.” 

Kurt’s voice on the phone was taut with frustration and Santana recognised the cue to back down. Years of being Kurt Hummel’s friend, confidant and sometime hag, had taught her to read him well so she closed her mouth and didn’t interject as Kurt told her of his afternoon with Matthew.

“He’s nice, ‘Tana, really he is. It’s just there was no … no chemistry, no spark, no nothing, really. He’s a banker for heaven’s sake!” Kurt stopped to take a breath but continued before Santana could interrupt him.

“Look, I just want to concentrate on the next two weeks while we’re on tour with the book and after that I want you to look at clearing my schedule so I can have time to work on the screen play. I want to be able to make a proposal to the studios at the end of the summer. No more setting me up with dates until _**I**_ tell you I’m ready, deal?”

Santana was quiet on the other side of the phone but Kurt knew her battle tactics.

“You may speak,” he said grandly.

“Thank you, _sir_ ,” she smirked on her end of the phone. “Okay, Luscious Lips, you’ve got yourself a deal. But, just warning you, I’m gonna work your porcelain butt so hard over the next two weeks that you’re going to end up wishing you were dating a boring banker instead!”

“Game on!” Kurt quipped back and bade her farewell. Just as he was closing his phone, it beeped with a message alert. Kurt was waiting for this one. He knew for certain there would be one more before Blaine went to sleep.

**[Blaine] “I want to have babies, Kurt.”**


	8. Chapter 8

“Mr Anderson?”

Although somewhat tentative, Blaine heard Simon’s voice amidst the noise and confusion that was now the school’s choir room just four hours before the start of the concert. He put the sheet music down on the piano and looked up at the young boy standing nervously in the doorway.

“Yes, Simon, what is it?”

“Mr Duval asked me to come get you. There’s a problem with Audrey Two’s costume and Mr Duval said he needs you.” Blaine’s forehead creased in a frown.

“A problem with Audrey Two?” he queried moving quickly to Simon’s side and the two of them walked swiftly along the corridor towards the auditorium.

“Yes, Mr Anderson, but Mr D’s husband said that Mr D was making a molehill mountain or something like that but Mr D insisted that you be called to come look at it,” Simon’s explanation was almost apologetic.

Blaine tousled the boy’s hair and said kindly, “I’m glad you came to call me, Simon. Mr D knows that Audrey Two is like my own precious baby so he knows I would need to know if something had happened to her.” Simon nodded as he digested this information.

“Do you have children, Mr Anderson?” he asked hoping it wasn’t impolite to ask but, being too short, he failed to see the flicker of sadness cross his teacher’s face.

“Well, no Simon, actually, I don’t but, on the other hand, I regard all of you munchkins my kids so I guess I’ve got about 100 children,” Blaine replied gently as he placed his hands on both Simon’s shoulders and followed him into the auditorium.

Although he had double-checked everything earlier in the day and so had a good idea of what to expect, Blaine couldn’t help the gasp of awed satisfaction that escaped his mouth as he and Simon took in the sight of the transformed school auditorium.

“What’s wrong, Mr Anderson?” Simon asked worriedly.

Blaine’s squeezed the boy’s shoulders and assured him that absolutely nothing was wrong. In fact, quite the opposite was true.

“It’s all so exciting, Simon. I love the fact that we were able to turn the auditorium into a school cafeteria. Look at that set you guys painted. It’s awesome. I love it and when the curtain goes up in a few hours the parents in the audience are going to be blown away by the incredibly talented kids in this school.”

Simon stopped walking and looked back at the teacher.

“You really love this, don’t you Mr Anderson?” he stated more than asked.

“Yes, Simon,” Blaine breathed in deeply as if inhaling the very essence of the theatre, “Yes I do. I love the thrill of the performance; the thrill of being on stage –of actually being close enough to the audience to read their expressions. I thrive on the backstage dramas; I even love the technical hiccups in dress rehearsals. I love that moment when everything I’ve dreamed in my head becomes reality on stage and people are entertained. For a brief moment in time, they can forget the drama of their own lives and get caught up in the spectacle of the saga unfolding on stage.”

Simon smiled at the sight of his enthralled teacher as he spoke. Although still young, Simon recognised passion and it was standing in front of him right now in this school auditorium in the form of his Music teacher, Mr Anderson. Simon’ smile turned into a grin and at that moment, Blaine seemed to remember himself and laughed quietly at his zealous response to such a simple question.

“Sorry, Simon,” he apologised. “I guess I get carried away sometimes.”

Simon looked at the music teacher thoughtfully, before replying sincerely, “It’s really cool Mr Anderson. I’m lucky to be in this school now. You and Mr Duval have taught me so much about finding passion in the things we do.”

Blaine smiled at the boy’s comment and again tousled his hair as he said, “That right? Well then perhaps next year we can even persuade _you_ to take part in the musical, huh?”

Simon looked up at Blaine, a small coy smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe,” he whispered as if trying on the idea for the first time. “Maybe.”

“Very good then,” Blaine encouraged, “Now let’s go find your Mr Duval and see how we can solve Audrey Two’s problem.”

*****

Kurt looked up at Santana as she slid into the chair opposite him at the breakfast table. He noticed the tired lines creasing her eyes this morning. The almost daily flights across the country seemed to be taking their toll on his friend.

“You okay, ‘Tana?” he asked cautiously. 

She ignored him but Kurt wasn’t perturbed at the lack of response; he knew better than to try to have a conversation with Santana before she’d had her early morning coffee. Instead, he raised an arm and gestured a young waiter over to their table.

“Two cups of coffee, please,” he requested. The waiter nodded immediately and left to comply.

“Thanks, Kurt,” came a soft voice from across the table.

“No worries,” he replied. “Can I get you some breakfast, Santana? They’ve got an awesome fruit display. I’m about to get a second helping myself.”

“Please,” came her grateful reply.

Kurt pushed his chair back to stand up as the waiter returned to their table with the coffee pot and proceeded to pour a cup for each of them. Kurt could see the edges of Santana’s mouth begin to twitch in anticipation of her caffeine fix. Grinning, he walked away towards the breakfast buffet. They had been dancing this early morning sequence for two weeks now and Kurt was well rehearsed in the choreography.

He couldn’t believe that today signalled their final day – his final book signing and Q&A session. Kurt smiled as he thought of the 11 crowd selfies he’d collected over the past two weeks and today’s picture would be the last for this tour – a round dozen to add to his growing collection. Santana’s larger-than-life personality had been evident in all the arrangements of the tour and he was actually very grateful to her. More than once he had told Blaine in a text that he was actually thrilled she was on tour with him because she could deal with insane people better than him- on account of the fact that she was insane herself.

He placed a plate, laden with delectable fruit treats, in front of her as she sipped her coffee contemplatively and then, as he turned back towards the buffet for his own service, he pulled out his phone and sent Blaine a message.

[Kurt] “Is it weird that I woke up this morning singing ‘Suddenly Seymour’?”

He had returned to the table already and was eating melon slices when Blaine’s reply came through.

**[Blaine] “Yes very! You’re weird.”**

Kurt laughed and Santana looked up, annoyed. “Really, Hummel? This early in the morning?”

“Shut up Santana. I will only speak to you after your third cup of coffee.” Kurt continued to eat and then explained by way of appeasement. “It’s his musical today – well this evening, over there – it’s tonight.”

Santana nodded and Kurt was grateful that she didn’t comment further. Instead she made her way steadily through the fruit platter and by the time she’d finished her second cup of coffee, she and Kurt were chatting amicably about the day’s arrangements.

“We should be done at Barnes and Noble by 4pm which gives us loads of time to return here, shower, dress and get to the Gershwin Theatre in time for the show.”

Kurt nodded in agreement. “I’m really excited about this, ‘Tana,” he enthused. “Thank you.”

Santana smiled at her friend’s eagerness but then she wagged a finger at him and her face clouded over. “Just remember, PonyBoy, you will sit in your seat at all times and you will not, under any circumstances, jump up and sing ‘Defying Gravity’ with them to make a point about your ability to hit high notes. Do you understand me?”

Kurt grinned at her and teased, “But what if I – ?”

“No!”

“And if they- ?”

“No, Kurt. Just no!”

Kurt pulled his face into a sulk until Santana relented. “Okay, fine, you can hum. Quietly, so no one can hear you.”

Kurt clapped his hands together in sheer delight until Santana interrupted with an instruction to get his porcelain butt out of the chair and into his suite so they could set off for Union Square.

*****

Blaine had the soloists gathered around the piano in the choir room and was taking them through their warm-up scales. The chaos of earlier had cleared as several teachers and mothers had arrived to take charge of the young actors in the allotted classrooms which were doubling as dressing rooms. Blaine had easily managed to solve Nick’s problem with Audrey Two – the giant man-eating flower costume he’d wrestled out of the school Bursar but he was now concerned about the fact that Rosie, the year six student playing Audrey One hadn’t arrived for vocal warm ups. 

Mrs Phillips, the Year 6 History teacher, arrived at the door and, catching Blaine’s eye, gestured for him to come to her urgently. 

“Callum, could you take the kids through the rest of these exercises, please?” Blaine asked as he stood up from the piano. The boy nodded and confidently began to lead his peers in their vocal exercises as Blaine moved towards the door, his eyebrows raised in question.

“It’s Rosie,” Mrs Philips explained quietly so the others would not hear. “She’s locked herself in the girls’ bathroom and won’t come out.”

“Oh no,” Blaine exclaimed in horror as he stepped out into the corridor.

“We’ve tried talking to her,” Mrs Phillips went on, “but she’s adamant she’s not coming out because she’s not good enough and this _whole_ play will be a disaster because _everyone_ will laugh at her and you’ll be so _upset_ and her life will be _ruined_.” The teacher grimaced at Blaine’s raised eyebrows. “Her words,” she explained shrugging her hands and shoulders in defeat.

If it wasn’t so serious, Blaine might have laughed at the diva-esque display but he knew Rosie’s insecurities lay much deeper than her lack of confidence. They reached the door to the girls’ bathroom where they caught the tail end of Rosie’s mother’s enraged rant. Just then, Blaine’s phone beeped with an incoming message alert. He pulled it from his trouser pocket and smiled at the sender’s name.

[Kurt] “Is it weird that even though I had a huge breakfast, my stomach’s yelling “Feed me, Seymour!”

Blaine’s smile reached his eyes as he thought of his friend who, although very busy with his own life and career today, was making time to ensure that Blaine knew he was being thought of and wished well on this, his special day.

**[Blaine] Even weirder!**

He shot off the quick response and then turned his attention to the situation at hand. He could hear Rosie crying and shouting back at her mother, “I’m not good enough! Don’t you understand that?”

Blaine knocked on the door and caught the attention of the distressed mother. She looked at Blaine helplessly and threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her, Blaine. She’s being impossible.”

Blaine nodded in understanding and then said, “Do you think I could speak to Rosie on my own, Mrs Billington? You could wait here at the door with Mrs Phillips?” he suggested.

Rosie’s mom agreed and stepped aside to allow Blaine entry to the bathroom which was empty aside from the one stall with the firmly locked door. Blaine could make out the crossed legs of his star performer underneath the door. He walked towards the door and knocked.

“Rosie, it’s me,” he called softly. “Do you think you could unlock the door so we could chat, please?”

“No,” the reply came followed by a sniff. “I’m sorry Mr Anderson, but I can’t come out of here. If I come out, you’re going to make me go on stage and perform and I just can’t; I’m not good enough. Melissa Andrews and her friends told me at break today that my voice sounded like a screeching cat which should be put out of its misery.”

Blaine nodded in understanding of the situation, sighed and then sat down on the floor with his back leaning up against the door. “Okay,” he said, his voice calm and reasonable. “Is it okay if I sit here a bit with you?”

“Suit yourself,” she said, “but the floor’s really dirty.” Blaine laughed at her concern just as his phone beeped with another incoming message.

[Kurt] “I’m looking at apartments to rent on the Upper East Side and singing ‘far from skid row that’s where we’ll go, somewhere that’s green.’ Am I weird? I think I’m weird.”

Blaine laughed to himself as he imagined Kurt doing just that and suddenly he was struck with inspiration. “Rosie,” he called for the girl’s attention again. “Do you remember me telling you a few weeks back that I met Kurt Hummel in London when I was there?”

“Yes,” her response was quiet. “I do remember you telling us that he was totally awesome and the kindest, funniest, smartest and most talented man you’d ever met.”

Blaine blushed in the room as the ladies at the door overheard his student’s subtle judgement of his fan-boy behaviour. “Well, I’m thinking that perhaps we could phone him and ask his opinion on the matter at hand. Perhaps you could sing a few bars for him and let him decide whether you are good enough or not,” Blaine suggested carefully. “I should think he’s a better judge of voices than Melissa.”

Blaine waited with bated breath and glanced up at the two women at the doorway who were looking at him in wide-eyed surprise.

“Really, Mr A? You’d phone Mr Hummel and let me talk to him?” His student was cautious.

“Yes, Rosie,” promised Blaine. “But you’ll have to come out of that stall because the sound won’t be good in there at all. You should come out and sit next to me, here.”

The three adults in the room held their collective breaths as they waited for Rosie to decide what she would do. It seemed like an eternity passed when in reality it took the girl only a few seconds to choose to entrust her singing future to the opinion of her favourite author. 

Blaine looked up at the sound of the lock retracting and the squeak of the cubicle door as Rosie stumbled out into his waiting arms and sat beside him on the floor. Blaine’s fingers flew over his phone as he sent off an emergency text to Kurt.

**[Blaine] “One hour to curtain and I have an emergency which only an award-winning author can solve.”**

**[Blaine] “Is there any way I could ring you right now and have you speak to 11-year old Rosie who _should_ be playing Audrey One?”**

Blaine waited in tense anticipation for a reply. By his rough calculation, Kurt and Santana should be driving to the book store right now. Kurt should be able to text him back from the car. He and Rosie watched his phone anxiously waiting for the incoming message alert which is why they were both startled when Blaine’s phone rang noisily, disrupting the quiet of the bathroom to announce an incoming call.

“Hello,” Blaine answered.

“Blaine!” Kurt’s voice was anxious. “What’s wrong? What do you mean ‘an 11-year old who _should_ be playing Audrey?’ What’s going on?”

It took Blaine a moment before he could respond. His mind was reeling at the sound of Kurt’s voice. It had been a month since he’d heard the cadence and inflections of that unique sound and he suddenly realized just how much he had missed it. Even though they had been chatting almost daily via text, they hadn’t spoken on the phone at all. 

Blaine breathed deeply to steady his voice in front of Rosie so as not to patronise her but he desperately needed Kurt to come through for him. 

“Hey Kurt, hi! I’m sitting here with a young girl called Rosie who is an avid reader and a serious fan of Blaze. She’s my star performer tonight except she’s having a severe attack of the nerves because some girls who don’t know any better said some really mean things to her.” 

Blaine paused to take a breath and stole a glance at Rosie who was watching him with careful eyes.

“So, .. um … I was wondering if perhaps you could listen to her sing and then tell her honestly if she is good enough or not. We’ve agreed that your opinion would mean more than Melissa’s.” 

Blaine hoped that Kurt was making all the necessary connections and hearing everything Blaine was _not_ saying about the situation. There was silence on the other side and Blaine was about to check the connection when he heard Kurt speak quietly. “One second, Blaine.” Blaine listened in his earpiece to the muted conversation that followed.

_“Santana, tell him to stop the car.”_

_“I said stop the car.”_

_“I don’t care where. He needs to stop the car right now!”_

In the background, Blaine could hear plenty of high-pitched colourful expletives escaping from what had to be Santana’s mouth but then Kurt’s voice came back to him much clearer, almost as if he were in the room with Blaine.

“Right Blaine, I’m here. Give your phone to Rosie.”

“Thanks Kurt,” whispered Blaine and handed the phone to his student. 

“Rosie, Kurt Hummel’s on the phone for you,” he said seriously and then sat back, resting his head against the wooden panel between two stalls. _Please Kurt, please reach her in a way we can’t right now_. He listened to Rosie’s side of the conversation.

“Hello?”

“Yes, this is Rosie. Is it really you, Mr Hummel?”

“Well, I don’t think I can. My mommy expects me to call all adults by their surnames. She’s strict on manners like that you see.”

“Yes, yes I love Blaze. I really do.”

“Yes, I remember when that happened. Those boys were really horrible.”

“Well, he listened to his dad’s advice and he went to the football trials anyway.”

She was quiet for a while and Blaine held his breath before she continued.

“I haven’t got a dad, Mr Hummel.” Her voice was faint and Blaine looked over at her in concern. _Kurt, please tread carefully here. My musical is resting in your hands._

“Yes, I guess so. He’s pretty decent.” Rosie was smiling at Blaine now. “He says you’ll tell me the truth about my voice. Will you, Mr Hummel? If I sing now, will you tell me if I’m too awful to go on stage?”

“You will?”

“Do you know the words?”

Rosie pulled the phone away from her ear. “He’s going to sing _Suddenly Seymour_ with me,” she whispered to Blaine who followed Kurt’s instruction to put the call on speaker.

In the eerie silence of the girls’ bathroom of a middle school in Southampton, three adults listened, dumbstruck, as a little girl stood up and sang in perfect harmony with the most angelic voice on the other end of the phone from the other side of the world. 

Blaine sat on the floor in hushed awe as his friend pulled from Rosie her best ever performance and he found his eyes were wet by the time they let the last note go. Then there was silence as Rosie waited for Kurt’s judgement.

“Rosie,” Kurt asked, “am I still on speakerphone? Can Mr Anderson hear me too?”

“Yes, yes he can.”

“Rosie,” Kurt spoke slowly. “Your voice is exceptional. Yours is a true talent Angel and you must never again believe the haters. Believe in yourself and believe Mr Anderson and your mom when they tell you that you are gifted because they wouldn’t lie and neither would I. Go on that stage tonight and wow the audience with your beautiful voice.”

“Really, Mr Hummel? You are sure?”

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life, Rosie.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you!”

“And Rosie, be sure to read my next book. I think you may find a young girl called Rosie pops up in Blaze’s life.”

Rosie squealed with delight and thrust the phone back in Blaine’s hands as she rushed to her mother’s side. “Did you hear that, Mummy? Mr Hummel’s going to name a character after me!”

Blaine watched as Rosie’s mom ushered her daughter out of the bathroom and hustled to get her make-up fixed. Mrs Phillips popped her head back into the bathroom, raised both hands in a thumbs-up sign and mouthed “You’re good” at Blaine who was talking to Kurt.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Kurt. I’m not lying when I say you just saved my musical. I owe you one.”

“Nonsense, Blaine it was my pleasure. But I must get going now before Santana takes her current impression of Mt. Vesuvius to its very obvious conclusion.”

“Of course, please thank her from me too.” Blaine closed his phone just as Nick entered the bathroom.

“I just heard what happened. Are you okay?” he wanted to know.

“Yeah, yeah I am now,” Blaine replied in relief. “It was a bit intense for a while but Kurt was amazing. Talked her right back into it after they sang together.”

“Mrs Phillips says _you_ were the amazing one. Kept totally calm, managed to get Rosie out of the stall, played the ‘I’m friends with a famous author’ card and won our musical back from the brink,” Nick countered, a teasing note in his voice.

Together they had moved back into the corridor and were heading towards the choir room when they saw Jeff step around the corner, his arms filled with an enormous bouquet of blood-red roses and soft white baby’s breath spays. Nick glanced at Blaine cautiously as Jeff handed them to Blaine.

“They’re from Chad,” Jeff said carefully. “He asked me to get them for you.” Blaine’s eyes registered his delight and Jeff felt just awful that he had to continue. 

“Blaine, he and Sebastian aren’t going to be able to make it this evening,” Jeff rushed the words and glanced towards Nick for support as he delivered the bad news.

“What?” Blaine didn’t recognise the high-pitched voice that escaped his throat.

Jeff continued quickly, “Something came up and if they don’t act on it right now their new clients will lose the deal and it’s apparently worth millions. They were going into a lockdown meeting so he asked me to …” Jeff’s explanation trailed off as he saw the disappointment on Blaine’s face change to cold resignation.

“Well, the flowers are lovely, aren’t they, Jeff? Thank you.” Blaine’s impeccable manners always kicked in when he was feeling hurt or attacked. Nick and Jeff had witnessed it many times in altercations with Blaine’s father.

“Let’s go find something that can hold them shall we, and then we really need to get this concert started.” Blaine was determined not to let his hurt and disappointment ruin the evening for them all. “Time for a show circle I think, lads.”

*****

[Kurt] “Break a leg Mr Music Director”

[Kurt] “Oh shit, no wait, don’t … I already hurt your leg once before… **”**

**[Blaine] “Thanks Kurt. I appreciate your support so much. I’ll text you when it’s over…”**

More than 3000 miles away, Kurt closed his eyes and leaned his head against the head-rest of the seat as the driver pulled into their designated parking. He opened his eyes and typed out one last message to Blaine.

[Kurt] “Yeah, we’ll chat later, Blaine. I know the musical will be awesome. It has to be.” 

_… Because you are,_ he wanted to add.


	9. Chapter 9

Blaine’s fingers raced up and down the piano keys. The piano had been a gift from his grandmother on his 12th birthday and had proved to be a true and trusted friend for 15 years. The music was turbulent, fierce almost, and Blaine’s body was tense, hunched over the keyboard. His eyes were closed but his mind followed the staccato journey of his fingers as he worked out his pent-up frustration the only way he knew how.

The sound of the doorbell chime interrupted his aggressive playing and, sighing heavily, Blaine paused to register the intrusion but decided to ignore it. He really didn’t feel like facing any visitors this early in the morning – he was tired and angry and, admittedly, slightly hung-over but the doorbell rang yet again – adamant for his attention and he got up reluctantly.

Blaine glanced down at his early morning attire – grey sweatpants and a sleep-creased navy blue T-shirt. He shrugged in dismissal. Maybe the visitors would go away when they saw he wasn’t dressed for receiving them. When the doorbell rang for the third time, Blaine had reached the door and opened it with an annoyed expression fixed determinedly in place. However, when faced with two constables from the Southampton Police Department, Blaine’s face swiftly rearranged itself into alarm instead.

“Mr Anderson?” 

The male member of the pair in uniform on his doorstep stepped forward and when Blaine nodded in surprise, the man flashed his ID card. “I’m PC Puck and this is PC Quinn,” his head jerked towards the lady at his side.

“You are registered as the I.C.E. for Chad Anderson – is that correct?” PC Puck asked, seeking confirmation from the man who had opened the door. 

Blaine’s eyes flew wide open. “I.C.E.? In Case of Emergency? Chad’s my husband,” he choked out in response.

“Sir,” PC Quinn’s voice was soft and she laid her hand on Blaine’s arm gently. “The hospital asked us to pick you up as they weren’t able to contact you on your mobile number.”

Blaine glanced back guiltily across the living room to where his phone was lying in three pieces on the floor as if in explanation but then jerked his head back at the officer. “The hospital?” he repeated confused.

“Mr Anderson, your husband was involved in an accident earlier this morning and the hospital asked us to bring you there immediately.” PC Puck seemed eager to leave but Blaine’s brain wasn’t able to tell his feet to move.

“Accident?” he repeated, feeling foolish that he wasn’t able to construct proper sentences and was reduced to repeating phrases but his splintered mind was having a hard time making connections right now. “Chad?”

PC Quinn patted his arm as she replied. “We have no further information, Mr Anderson, but we should leave immediately.”

Blaine nodded dumbly, pulled the door closed behind him and stumbled down the path as he followed the two officers towards their car. He climbed into the back seat as Quinn closed the door behind him before settling herself in the passenger seat up front beside her partner. Vaguely, Blaine registered that the flashing blue and red lights had been switched on and they were driving quickly through the leafy suburban streets.

 _I’m coming Chad!_ Blaine reached out in his mind. _I’ll be there soon, Love_. _You’re going to be okay, Chad._ Blaine’s thoughts flew to his husband’s side as he tried to blank out the terrifying thoughts of what he may find at the hospital. Instead, leaning his head back against the headrest, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to travel back in time to a crowded Student Union bar where he, Nick and Jeff along with other first year students were being noisily welcomed to university by the Gay Alliance.

_As they made their way across the dance floor towards the bar, Nick and Jeff’s attention was immediately diverted by the music so Blaine had to continue the journey on his own. He patiently waited his turn and looked up, surprised, when he heard a strong voice call out._

_“Hey Killer, what can I get you? How ‘bout me for starters?”_

_A tall, slender man with brown hair flopping untidily into his sharp face was standing behind the bar, clearly giving Blaine the ‘once over’. His eyebrows were raised expectantly and Blaine blushed at the obvious attention when suddenly another man appeared beside the blatant bartender and nudged him out the way._

_“More serving; less flirting, Seb,” the new guy admonished. “We’ve got about ten minutes left of our shift and then you can play,” and he gestured with his hand waving in the air for his friend to move along down the counter to attend to other patrons._

_“Sorry about that,” the newcomer said to Blaine, “Sebastian’s one of a kind. He’ll grow on you but don’t date him, ever! My name’s Chad- I’m a senior and I haven’t seen you at one of these before so I’m guessing you’re a first year.” Chad’s voice was soft and Blaine thought his green eyes twinkled delightfully as he spoke._

_“You’d be guessing correct,” Blaine nodded. “My name’s Blaine.”_

_“Well, it’s good to meet you, Blaine,” continued Chad as he handed Blaine his drink. “Enjoy your evening.”_

_Blaine thanked the final year student and moved away from the bar counter to make way for other thirsty partygoers. He scanned the dance floor for his friends and found Nick and Jeff completely wrapped up in each other. They were entirely oblivious to the small circle of dancers that had formed around them like satellite groupies. They also appeared unaffected by the music’s rapid tempo. Whilst everyone around them was gyrating furiously to the beat, Nick had Jeff wrapped in his arms and was murmuring in his ear as he swayed them gently from side to side. Jeff’s arms were hugging Nick’s waist tightly and from the flush on Jeff’s neck and cheeks, Blaine could tell they would not be staying at the party for much longer._

_“They’re cute!”_

_A voice next to him shouted over the music and when he turned to his right, Blaine recognised Chad. He nodded in agreement._

_“They’re friends of mine from high school,” he explained proudly, raising his voice to be heard. Chad looked over at the couple again and then turned back to Blaine, his eyes capturing Blaine’s in a thoughtful stare. He leaned closer and bent his head to place his mouth near Blaine’s ear._

_“How about you?” he asked clearly without shouting, “Are you here with your high school sweetheart or did you leave someone at home?”_

_Blaine shook his head as he sipped his drink and then tried really hard not to blush as he stood on tiptoes to reach Chad’s ear to answer. “Here alone,” he replied honestly. “No sweetheart, here or at home.”_

_“In that case,” said Chad taking the glass from Blaine’s hand and placing it on the nearly counter, “let’s get you onto the dance floor” and he led Blaine by the hand onto the middle of the floor._

“Mr Anderson?” PC Quinn’s soft voice broke through Blaine’s memories as his attention was pulled roughly from off the sweaty, swaying dance floor and propelled back into the uncomfortable backseat of the police car.

“I’m sorry, what?” he asked shaking his head slightly.

“I was just asking if there was anybody you wanted us to call. Your phone is out of action but perhaps you’d like a family member or a friend to meet you at the hospital to offer some support, maybe?”

“Oh, gosh … um … yes … please,” Blaine stumbled over the words, still finding it difficult to formulate complete sentences.

“Who would you like us to call?” PC Quinn enquired, displaying infinite patience as she waited for Blaine’s brain to focus.

“Um… Nick, please. Can you call Nick?” Blaine asked; his voice small and fragile as the dark realisation that apparently he would need support at the hospital began to dawn on him.

“You’re going to have to give us a surname and an address mate,” PC Puck’s voice came cajolingly from the driver’s seat.

Blaine complied and heard as PC Quinn radioed the request in to dispatch. “They’ll get hold of your friend, Nick,” she explained and Blaine knew that Nick and Jeff would drop everything to meet him at the hospital. _Not quite the way we had intended to spend the Saturday following the musical yesterday_ , thought Blaine grimly as he relaxed his hands which had been clenched in tight fists since he had first entered the police car.

As silence fell in the police car again, Blaine looked out the car’s window at the grey skies heavy with swollen clouds and the promise of rain. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift back into Chad’s arms on the dance floor.

_Chad pulled Blaine closer and kept a hand on Blaine’s lower back as the two of them found a rhythm which suited not only the music but also their own fascination for each other. Blaine loved to dance and Chad was proving a worthy partner._

_“You are incredible, Blaine!” Chad yelled over the music. Blaine grinned back happily and settled more comfortably into Chad’s arms as the tempo of the music slowed and the pair found themselves swaying together and drinking in the heady scent of their combined cologne and sweat._

_“You having fun? Chad asked and Blaine nodded enthusiastically. Blaine didn’t think it was possible but Chad managed to pull Blaine’s body even closer to his and slotted his thigh perfectly between Blaine’s legs causing Blaine’s breath to hitch._

_“You okay, Baby?” Chad whispered in his ear and Blaine shivered visibly in the older boy’s arms. He’d never before been pressed up against a boy like this and his mind was reeling with the new sensations._

_“You are so gorgeous, Blaine.” Chad continued to drive Blaine wild with his murmurings in the first year’s ear as he moved their bodies in time to the music. Blaine felt a hand tap on his arm and he looked up from Chad’s shoulder to find Nick and Jeff standing beside them, both boys grinning like Cheshire cats._

_“Blainers, we’re heading out,” Nick explained and Blaine nodded his understanding._

_“I guess you’re staying a bit longer?” Jeff asked cheekily, batting his eyelashes at Blaine who blushed scarlet as Chad nuzzled his mouth in Blaine’s neck nipping gently at the skin. Blaine nodded again._

_“I’ll speak to you tomorrow,” he managed to say before moaning into Chad’s ear as the man found a particularly sensitive spot below Blaine’s ear._

_“Chad…” Blaine managed to utter but he didn’t know how to complete the sentence._

_“Do you want to get out of here?” Chad asked and Blaine didn’t hesitate._

_“Yes, please,” he breathed._

_They collected their coats from reception and headed out the door. Chad suggested a coffee shop not too far from Blaine’s dorm rooms. There they spent the rest of the night getting to know each other over numerous cups of coffee until, eventually, the late night staff threw them out in order to clean the café before the early morning rush. But neither Blaine nor Chad was ready to say goodbye just yet so they ended up on a park bench watching the sun rise over the university campus grounds. When Chad realized he had less than an hour to get changed and ready for a senior class that morning, he reluctantly bade Blaine farewell but not before they had exchanged telephone numbers and Chad had persuaded Blaine to agree to a proper date the following evening._

_As they hugged each other goodbye, Chad whispered into Blaine’s ear, “Of all the GA mixers in all the world Blaine Anderson, you had to walk into mine. How lucky am I?”_

_Blaine giggled. “Cheesy!” he started to complain but when Chad nuzzled his neck again and Blaine began to whimper, Chad laughed._

_“Stick around Anderson, I’m going to rock your world!” he promised and Blaine floated back to his dorm room with a broad grin on his face which Nick and Jeff teased him about the entire day._

Blaine felt the police car slow down and the sudden stop brought him completely out of his reverie. He saw that Puck had stopped in front of the automatic doors of the Accident and Emergency and before he knew it, Quinn was out of the car and opening the door for him. But Blaine felt too nauseous to move. His stomach lurched in fear and trepidation and he thought he might throw up in the back seat of the police car.

“Come on Mr Anderson,” Quinn’s soft calm voice reached into the car to steady Blaine’s nerves. “It’s going to be alright. I’ll go in with you and, together, we’ll find your husband.”

Puck looked back at where Blaine sat immobile on the back seat. “I’ll be with you shortly,” he promised. “Just going to park this baby and then I’ll be right with you. Go with Quinn, Mr Anderson.”

Blaine nodded and took a deep breath, slid himself out of the backseat of the car and accepted Quinn’s hand as she pulled him upright onto the pavement.

“Follow me,” she instructed and walked towards the doors which slid open automatically for her and Blaine who followed a few steps behind her, trying desperately not to trip over his own feet which no longer seemed to understand the concept of one in front of the other. Blaine’s senses were assaulted immediately the doors wheezed closed behind them. The strong antiseptic hospital smell turned his stomach and he clutched at his abdomen, willing himself to be strong and not to vomit in the A&E reception area. He shuffled just behind PC Quinn as she marched forward to the desk, flashing her badge and bypassing the queue.

“I have Mr Blaine Anderson with me. His husband Chad was brought in this morning,” she announced to the desk clerk. From a counter behind the desk clerk, a nursing sister looked up from a pile of folders, her eyes settling on Blaine still standing just behind the police officer. She noticed how small and out of place he looked as she stepped forward to introduce herself to Quinn and Blaine.

“I’m Staff Sister McDougall. Would you care to come this way and I’ll let Dr. Stephens know that you are here.”

Blaine looked at the nurse fixing his eyes desperately on her. “Please,” he pleaded in a quiet voice. “Could you just take me to Chad?”

“I think the doctor wants to speak to you before you see your husband, Mr Anderson,” she explained kindly, taking him by the arm and leading him down a passage. Quinn followed and as they entered what was obviously a waiting room, Blaine realised that PC Puck had joined them again.

“Have a seat,” invited the Staff Sister. “I won’t be long and I’ll bring the doctor with me.” As she turned to go, Blaine ignored her offer of a seat and grabbed her arm. 

“Please, sister? Is he okay? How badly hurt is he?” Blaine’s voice was anxious.

But the sister simply shook her head and said, “Let’s wait for the doctor to explain it all to you, shall we?” and she left before Blaine could interrogate her further.

Puck and Quinn settled into the hard green plastic chairs but Blaine paced the room in front of the window. He watched the minutes tick by on the really awful cheap plastic clock on the wall and thought again that he would like to throw up. The door burst open and all three occupants looked up expecting to see a man in a white coat but it was Nick and Jeff who tumbled into the room, grabbing Blaine between them.

“Bloody hell, Blainers!” Nick exclaimed, “We’ve had a bitch of a time trying to find you, man. What the hell’s going on?” 

Blaine felt the tenuous grip he had on his emotions start to fray as his friends held him in their tight, bewildered embrace.

“Chad’s been in an accident,” he managed to whisper between gulping breaths as he fought for composure.

“What happened?” Jeff demanded of the two police officers sitting side by side in the waiting room.

“We have no further details, sir,” Puck announced as the door opened again, this time with a lot more measured precision than earlier.

According to his identity badge, Dr Stephens stepped into the room. His eyes were tired beneath the horn-rimmed glasses and his white coat was creased from what had obviously been a long shift. His expression was grave as he looked over at the three men still hugging each other in the middle of the room.

“Um.. Mr Blaine Anderson?” he questioned and the three friends separated to allow Blaine to step forward but he clung to Nick’s arm for support.

‘I’m Blaine.” The timid reply came from the shortest of the three men.

“I’m sorry, Mr Anderson. We did everything we could.” Blaine heard Jeff gasp behind him and Nick’s free arm came round to grip Blaine’s shoulders as the two police officers stood up with their caps in their hands.

“I’m sorry; your husband didn’t make it.” 


	10. Chapter 10

_No! No! No!_ The inconsolable voice was relentless in his head as Blaine sank down onto a chair in disbelief. He cradled his head in his hands as he tried desperately to make sense of the words the doctor was saying.

“…. massive internal trauma … paramedics … resuscitated … ambulance … lost so much blood …”

Blaine stood up and interrupted the flow of appalling words. “I … want … to see ….Chad.” Although Blaine’s voice was hoarse, his words were deliberate and to Nick, it sounded as though it actually hurt for Blaine to pronounce each word. The doctor nodded.

“Certainly. If you’ll come with me?”

Nick and Jeff took up a position on either side of Blaine as they followed the doctor through a warren of corridors until he stopped outside a door with a frosted glass window. 

“He’s in here,” the doctor explained. “The nursing staff cleaned up as best they could after the trauma of emergency treatment.”

Blaine didn’t reply; instead he stared hard at the door as if willing it to open of its own accord and for Chad to come out yelling “Surprise, Baby!” Of course, Blaine knew he would first scream at Chad that _this_ particular joke wasn’t funny and that he’d gone too far this time but in the end, they would kiss and cuddle and everything would be alright. If Chad would just come through the door.

“Blaine?” Nick’s voice, calm and steady, broke through Blaine’s scattered thoughts. “Blaine, do you want us to-”

“No,” interrupted Blaine quietly, “No, I’ll be alright. Just give me a minute.”

Doctor Stephens opened the door and motioned for Blaine to enter. From where he was standing, Jeff could see the outline of a body lying on the narrow hospital bed and knowing that it was their friend lying there, Jeff turned to hide his anguish in his husband’s arms.

“Oh Nicky,” he whispered, “What are we going to do?”

Nick gathered his husband into his arms, wiped away the tears that were rolling slowly down Jeff’s cheeks and then wiped away his own. “I don’t know, Angel. I don’t know. But right now, we’ve got to be strong for Blaine.”

Muting sounds from the hospital corridor, the door closed heavily behind Blaine as he walked slowly towards the bed where his Chad lay beneath the pale blue hospital sheet. Blaine let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding when his gaze fell on his beloved’s face.

“Oh Chad,” he whispered. “What have they done to your beautiful face?” He reached out to cup Chad’s cheek in a gesture he knew his husband loved. _“It makes me feel so cherished Blaine, so humbled to be loved by you. Hold me, Blaine” and Blaine would cup Chad’s cheeks to do just what his husband requested._

Blaine’s breath caught in his throat as he realised that Chad’s flesh was still warm to touch and he felt the bile rise. He fought the urge to vomit and instead reached under the sheet to find Chad’s hand and brought it up to his own cheek, nuzzling the hand that had held his for the past nine years. Blaine turned his head to kiss the inner palm and then turned Chad’s hand over as he placed soft kisses on each knuckle.

_“That tickles,” giggled Chad as he tried in vain to pull his hand away from Blaine’s grip._

_“Mmmm…” mumbled Blaine, determined not to let go, “and that’s why I love it so much.”_

_Chad laughed and brought his other hand into the game as he carded his fingers through Blaine’s dark curls. They were sitting in Chad’s car, parked outside Blaine’s dorm room but neither boy was ready to say goodnight after a fabulously romantic date. Chad had taken Blaine to dinner at a steakhouse in the city centre and the two had soaked up each other’s attention. Despite the three year gap, Chad found Blaine to be funny, intelligent and brilliantly entertaining. He hadn’t enjoyed a date this much in a long time. Although nervous of being a greenhorn, Blaine relaxed in Chad’s company as he found the older man charming and utterly wonderful. He was a kind and attentive date and had managed to sweep Blaine off his feet with his impeccable manners and old school gallantry._

_When he grabbed a handful of Blaine’s hair and tugged gently Blaine’s lips become free which was exactly Chad’s intention._

_“I want to kiss you,” he whispered huskily, looking deeply into Blaine’s eyes, asking silently for permission._

_“I want you to,” replied Blaine and, with a quick grin of delighted triumph, Chad’s mouth descended on Blaine’s lips and both boys sighed into the much anticipated kiss. Chad’s lips were soft and Blaine could taste the last hint of the cappuccino they’d enjoyed after dinner. Chad groaned in pleasure and suddenly his tongue was pushing against Blaine’s lips gently requesting entry. Blaine relaxed still further in Chad’s arms in quiet submission and opened his mouth to allow his boyfriend even greater access. Their tongues joined together to dance that ancient ritual until eventually each boy had to break away, gasping for air._

_“Blaine!” Chad gasped. “Kissing you is amazing. You are amazing!” and he bent his head forward to kiss Blaine again._

“Mr Anderson?” Doctor Stephens was back in the room trying to gain Blaine’s attention but without being obtrusive. Still holding his dead husband’s hand, Blaine, his eyes dull and expressionless, looked up at the doctor.

“I’m sorry but I have paperwork that you need to sign. Perhaps you’ll come with me?”

Blaine nodded his head and held up his free hand to indicate that the doctor should give him one minute. The doctor nodded his understanding and left Blaine alone with Chad once more.

“Chad …” Blaine’s voice was choked thick with emotion. He bent over the bed and placed his lips on his husband’s in a final kiss. Again, Blaine had that weird sensation that any second now, Chad would open his eyes, grab Blaine and roll him over on the bed and smother him with the early morning kisses Blaine loved so much But, there was no response from Chad’s lips. There was no playful laughter and there was no waking from this sleep.

“Chad, I love you,” Blaine whispered against his husband’s lips and, as he stood up, he tucked Chad’s hand back under the sheet. He stood beside the bed staring at Chad’s face. He knew, subconsciously, that he had to turn around and walk out the door leaving Chad there but there was no way in hell Blaine had the capacity to do that right now and so he stood still, quietly immersing himself in the sight of his hurt and damaged love. Dimly, he was aware of the door opening and suddenly Nick was beside him.

“Blaine?” he asked quietly. “What do you need, Blaine?”

Blaine looked up at his friend and Nick read the desperate anguish written across Blaine’s face, his eyes tortured with disbelief.

“Turn around,” he whispered to Nick. “Help me to turn around,” was the forlorn plea.

The tears were rolling freely down Nick’s cheeks as he put his arms around Blaine’s shoulders and turned his friend to face him, Blaine’s back now facing the hospital bed where his husband lay. Nick sought Blaine’s eyes as he tipped his friend’s chin upwards to face him. Reaching out to those sad, bleak eyes, Nick assured his friend.

‘I’m here, Blaine, I’m here. I’m not going to leave you.” 

Somehow Nick managed to persuade Blaine’s legs to follow him as he tugged Blaine out the room into the corridor where Dr. Stephens was waiting with Jeff. The doctor guided the men silently back to the waiting room where Nick was surprised to find the two police officers were still waiting. Nick lowered Blaine carefully into a chair and took a seat beside him as the doctor sat on Blaine’s right with a clipboard on his lap.

“I’m dreadfully sorry to have to do this, Mr Anderson but I’m required to ask you to sign this document which identifies the deceased as Charles Edward Anderson, your husband.

He handed Blaine a pen and slid the clipboard over onto his lap. Blaine took the pen and shakily signed his name on the dotted line. 

Oddly enough, it was the act of signing the paper that broke Blaine completely. It felt like the ultimate betrayal of all that they had been to each other and his anguished heart could take no more. The doctor left the room just as a primeval howl escaped from Blaine and he slid onto the floor hugging his knees to his chest as the sobs wracked his body. Jeff was on the floor beside him in an instant, holding and patting and gently rocking his friend in his sorrow.

PC Puck turned to Nick whose eyes had flown wide at his friend’s display of suffering. “It’s best sometimes to let them get this out,” he suggested, “otherwise it festers like a bad sore. Let the hurt out, I say.” 

He then handed Nick a business card with a request to keep both him and Quinn informed of the funeral arrangements. Nick thanked the officers who left just as the doctor returned with a bottle of tablets which he offered Nick.

“Sleeping tablets,” he explained. “The next few nights are going to be hell for your friend. These will keep the nightmares at bay.”

 

An hour later, a silent Blaine accepted the medication from his friends as they tucked him into the bed in the guest room of his own house. Blaine had refused to enter the bedroom he shared with Chad, shaking his head vehemently when Nick had led him there so, instead, he and Jeff had settled Blaine in the guest room – the one they had often used when drunk dinner parties at the Andersons ran late.

Blaine closed his eyes the minute the duvet was pulled up over him effectively shutting out the sight of his two best friends and their tear-stained faces.

_“Paris! Chad! I can’t believe you brought me to Paris!” Blaine had his arms wrapped around Chad’s neck as he pulled his boyfriend into a grateful hug. Placing his hands on either side of Chad’s face he kissed him between words._

_“You” kiss “Are” kiss “The” kiss “Best” kiss “‘Boyfriend” kiss “Ever” kiss._

_Chad grabbed Blaine’s bottom lip on that last word and held his boyfriend’s lips hostage as he deepened their kiss. Blaine was happy to oblige and gave Chad free reign of his mouth and tongue. Blaine still couldn’t believe that Chad had brought him to Paris to celebrate the fact that they’d been together for seven years. Blaine chased after Chad’s lips as his boyfriend broke their kiss to stare down into Blaine’s hazel-nut eyes._

_“Mmm… I think I may have developed the seven year itch, Blaine. I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore.”_

_Blaine’s entire world tilted on its axis and around him all movement stopped as he stared back in shock at the man he loved._

_“What?” he asked quietly. “What did you say, Chad?”_

_But Blaine had heard perfectly well. He just couldn’t believe it. His wonderful boyfriend of seven years had brought him to the viewing level of the Eiffel Tower to tell him that he no longer wished to be boyfriends. It wasn’t possible; surely Chad wouldn’t be that cruel? And what the hell was that kiss, then?_

_“You heard me Blaine,” Chad replied quietly. “I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore. I want to be your husband. I want to be yours forever.”_

_Blaine gasped as the pain in his heart gave way to sheer relief._

_“Marry me, Blaine,” asked Chad sincerely. “Make me the happiest man in the world and agree to be my husband. I love you so much.”_

_“Yes,” Blaine managed to breathe out. “Yes, I will marry you, Chad. Dear Heaven Above, I love you so much but you scared the holy crap out of me there, you goofball!”_

_Chad laughed and said, “I was too scared I would end up saying something cheesy and you would have something to mock me with for the rest of our lives.”_

_Blaine giggled and then attacked his fiancé’s lips with his own, fiercely and hungrily. All the dreams of the future seemed to be captured in that kiss. Blaine wanted more of Chad’s mouth and his fiancé obliged, allowing Blaine to dominate the kiss, his tongue finding and caressing Chad’s. Chad’s hands carded though Blaine’s curls as he accepted the passion in Blaine’s kiss and revelled in the claim Blaine was staking on his lips, his heart and his soul. Panting, they broke away eventually to catch their breath._

_“Oh Chad!” exclaimed Blaine breathlessly, “We’re getting married! Chad, we’re getting married!”_

_“Yeah, baby,” Chad agreed with a huge grin on his face as he swept Blaine up off his feet and twirled him around. “Me and you and a lifetime.”_

Blaine turned uncomfortably onto his left side in the unfamiliar guest bed wiping the salty tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

 _Nine years isn’t a lifetime, Chad,_ he thought as sleep overtook him _._

 

While Nick had a very difficult and emotional conversation with Sebastian, Chad’s closest friend and business partner, Jeff picked up the various pieces of Blaine’s phone from the living room floor. Gingerly, he replaced the battery and reattached the back cover. When he tried to switch it on he realised quickly that it was very obviously flat so he took it through to the kitchen where he knew Chad and Blaine always left their chargers and he plugged Blaine’s phone in to charge. Nick came through to the kitchen and Jeff heard him conclude his conversation with Sebastian.

“Okay, Bas. I appreciate that. Yes, we’ll let him know when he wakes. Okay, chat soon. Later, Bas, Bye.”

He ended the call and Jeff immediately sought comfort in Nick’s arms.

“Nicky, I feel like I’m in the middle of a nightmare and although I’ve said ‘ _One, Two Three, Wake up’_ I’m just not waking up.” 

Nick rubbed his husband’s back in comfort and his hand brushed tears off Jeff’s cheek. “I know Jeff. I just can’t believe this. It’s all so surreal. We just have to be there for Blaine in whatever way he needs right now. Can we have coffee while he sleeps do you think?” 

Pleased with something practical to do, Jeff set about preparing coffee for his husband. “I found Blaine’s phone in pieces on the floor in the living room,” he told Nick. “That’s obviously why the police station called us and not he, himself. I can’t understand why, though. Blaine is obnoxiously attached to his phone, why would it be abandoned in pieces on the floor, today - of all days?”

“Where is it now?” asked Nick.

“I fixed it and plugged it in to charge. It’s lying there on the counter.” Jeff indicated the phone’s position with a jerk of his head as he poured hot water into their coffee mugs.

Nick swung off the bar stool he’d been sitting on to pick up Blaine’s phone. Now that it had some battery power it was able to reveal to Nick that Blaine had 8 unread messages and 7 missed calls. As he held the phone in his hand, it vibrated violently, indicating yet another incoming message.

**“Blaine? Please? I haven’t slept at all. I’m so worried about you. Why aren’t you answering your phone?”**

Intrigued, Nick scrolled back further and read the following messages in chronological order:

_Friday 11pm_

**“So?? How did it go?”**

**__**

_Friday 11:58pm_

**“I’m assuming you are out celebrating and that’s why you’re not replying. I’m going to take that as a sign that all went well and Little School of Horrors was an enormous success.”**

**__** _Friday 11:59pm_

**“Which I knew it would be anyway.”**

**__** _Saturday 00h25_

**“Blaine? You’ve never taken this long to respond to my texts before. Is everything okay?”**

**__** _Saturday 01h30_

**“Santana says I’ve crossed a line. I’m so sorry. I’ll stop blowing up your phone and wait patiently for your text.”**

**__** _Saturday 01h35_

**“You will text me though, won’t you?”**

**__** _Saturday 01:36_

**“Ah, shit, I’m sorry.”**

**__** _Saturday 01:45_

**“Blaine?”**

 

As he got to the end of the string of messages, Nick felt the phone begin to vibrate in his hands and Blaine’s phone began to ring impatiently with an incoming call.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Hello? Blaine’s phone,” Nick answered cautiously.

“Blaine!!” Kurt’s voice shrieked on the other end. “Wait, … what? Blaine’s phone? What do you mean Blaine’s phone?” he asked just as a throat was cleared on the other end and Kurt realised it was not Blaine who had answered.

“Who is this?” Kurt demanded his voice tight and unusually high with surprise and concern.

“This is Nick. Who is _this_?”

Kurt ignored the question; instead he asked, “Where’s Blaine?” The worry and alarm was almost palpable to Nick on the other side but he needed clarification from the caller.

“Wait; hang on a minute, mate. I asked you who _this_ is.”

There was a pause as Kurt thought carefully.

“What does the caller ID say?” he asked quietly.

“Hobbit’s author” was Nick’s quick reply and he heard soft laughter on the other end of the phone.

“Oh, he’s such a dork! Nick? Did you say your name is Nick?”

“Yeah, this is Nick and, at the risk of sounding repetitive, who is _this_?”

“Um … Nick, my name’s Kurt. I don’t know if Blaine mentioned me? He and I met at the London Book Fair when I was over there in March. He … um … mentioned you … and Jeff to me.”

“Kurt? Kurt Hummel? You’re ‘Hobbit’s author’?” Nick asked as realisation dawned.

“Apparently,” Kurt replied. “Nick, where is he? Is he alright? He didn’t text me to tell me how the musical went and I haven’t heard from him. He hasn’t replied to any of my messages and he didn’t answer my calls. His phone’s been off for ages. Nick? What’s going on?”

There was a pause in Kurt’s questioning and a heavy silence fell between the two men. After a while, Kurt’s very quiet voice came through down the line.

“Nick? Why are you answering Blaine’s phone?”

*****

Santana put down her coffee cup and stared at Kurt incredulously. “You’re shitting me!” she implored.

“I wish I was Santana, but it’s true. Blaine’s husband was killed in an accident in the early hours of this morning. Nick says the police arrived at Blaine’s home to take him to the hospital when the emergency workers couldn’t raise Blaine on his phone. Apparently, the doctors tried everything they could to save him but his injuries were too extensive and he died in the Emergency Room – Nick called it the A&E. He and Jeff were contacted by the police and met Blaine there. They’re with him now – at his house.”

“How is he?” Santana asked in a small voice.

Kurt shook his head. “Nick said he was pretty messed up at the hospital. He said, Blaine had to …” Kurt took a deep breath as a wave of sadness washed over him and stole his breath. “Blaine asked Nick to help him leave the room where Chad was lying because he just couldn’t walk away.” 

Kurt gave up the struggle and allowed his tears to run freely down his cheeks and Santana gripped his hands across the table.

“It’s too awful, Kurt. I can’t imagine what strength it must cost to have to say goodbye to the love of your life, to walk out that room knowing you have to carry on with your life.”

Kurt sniffed and Santana rummaged in her bag to pass him a tissue which he gratefully accepted.

Between sniffs, he continued speaking. “Nick says the musical was a huge success. The kids were brilliant; Blaine’s music accompaniment was fantastic. The parents, school board members - everyone was thrilled and Blaine was riding such a high last night.

“So last night’s concert was the last Chad and Blaine had together,” Santana mused.

“No,” Kurt corrected her. “Nick says Chad couldn’t make it. He and his law firm partner had some last minute big deal go down and so he missed the concert completely.”

“So, was he out all night?” Santana was trying to make sense of the events in Southampton. “Did the accident occur on his way home?”

Kurt shook his head. “No one really knows, actually. Not yet, anyway. Nick says he’s not sure because the police haven’t finished their report, obviously and Blaine is fast asleep – heavily medicated. But Nick said the nursing staff handed them Chad’s personal belongings in a bag when they left the hospital eventually and Chad’s briefcase was not among them. It was just his watch and his wallet.”

“No wedding band?” Santana asked curiously.

“No; for some reason neither of them wore wedding bands,” Kurt explained, quietly thinking back to that weekend in London when the absence of a ring on Blaine’s finger had misled Kurt.

“Santana, I should fly out there,” Kurt spoke slowly and deliberately.

“Shit! No way, PonyBoy,” Santana was adamant. “This is one mess you have got to stay far away from.”

“But, ‘Tana, he’s my friend and he’s hurting. I should be there for him,” Kurt argued.

“No way! Uh uh! Not going to happen, Kurt,” Santana insisted forcefully wagging her carefully manicured index finger at Kurt. “And let me tell you why,” she continued.

“You, my dear Ponyboy have fallen for this English hobbit, a long time ago already and don’t even bother denying it with me – Aunty Snix knows what she knows. And all the time you’ve been fawning over him during this so-called ‘friendship’ thing you two have got going, he has been married – married, Kurt – committed to someone else. Now that someone else is no longer there and you are not, I repeat, not going to swoop in there like some long lost prince on a white steed and get your heart broken.”

Kurt rolled his eyes at his friend’s analogy but shook his head in disagreement.

“Santana – I would be a friend to him. That’s what he needs right now. He’s got to be hurting something awful.” Kurt’s eyes were tearing up again as he thought of the heart wrenching pain his friend would be suffering right now.

“Yes, and from what you tell me, he is surrounded by friends – Nick and Jeff have got his back, Kurt so you just sit tight and be friends with your hobbit from across the pond via text, like always,” Santana countered.

“But…” Kurt wanted to protest.

“But nothing, besides, you’ve got a magazine interview to do today; this evening we’re flying back to LA and in the morning, you conclude your book tour with the television interview on the breakfast show.”

“But-” Kurt was nothing if not persistent.

“No, no buts, Kurt. You can be there for him from over here.” Santana would not budge but she did reach a hand over to squeeze Kurt’s where it rested in a clenched fist on the table between them. Her gaze softened as she took in the sight of her friend’s distress. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Trust me on this one, Ponyboy, I promise.”

*****

**[Kurt] “Heading into an interview in a minute. How is he, Nick?”**

[Nick] “He woke up around 6pm. Jeff managed to get him to have some soup but then he rushed to the bathroom and was sick in the toilet. He’s not speaking, simply nodding and shaking his head in answer.”

**[Kurt] “Did you tell him I rang? Did you give him my message?”**

[Nick] “Yes, I did. He nodded but didn’t say anything.”

**[Kurt] “Nick, I feel so helpless. What can I do?”**

[Nick] “There’s nothing any of us can do, Kurt except be there for him. We’ll give him some more sleeping tablets after Jeff gets him into the shower.”

**[Kurt] “Will you and Jeff stay the night, Nick? I can’t bear to think of him on his own.”**

[Nick] “Yes, we’ll stay here for as long as he needs us.”

**[Kurt] “They’re calling for me, Nick. I’ve got to go. Please tell him I’m thinking of him and I’m so damn sorry he’s hurting.”**

Nick replied that he would do so and swiped his phone closed. He heard the sound of water running so Jeff must have been able to persuade Blaine to take that much needed shower. He left Jeff to take care of Blaine and headed to the kitchen to boil the kettle for coffee. It seemed that’s all he and Jeff had done all day – drink coffee, answer phone calls and watch TV, waiting while Blaine slept. 

All the while, the rain drenched the world outside, seeming to share the sorrow of the three occupants of the house. Sebastian had called just before Blaine woke up to let Nick know that he’d taken care of some of the preliminary legal paperwork and that he would arrive early the next morning to chat to Blaine about funeral arrangements. Nick just hoped that Blaine would be in a fit state to discuss those with them. Since requesting help out of the emergency room earlier that morning, Blaine had not uttered another word to either of them. Nick could sense Blaine shutting down.

Ten minutes later, Blaine shuffled through to the kitchen. He had still refused to enter his and Chad’s bedroom so Jeff had hunted in the combined closet to find Blaine a pair of black sweat pants and a grey T-shirt to wear under his old university hoodie.

“Hey, Blainers, how was that shower?” Nick asked guardedly. He’d spent some of the afternoon’s vigil on various grief counselling websites and had been warned off asking the bereaved “How are you feeling?” or “How are you doing?” Apparently, there was no answer to those questions.

Blaine didn’t meet Nick’s eyes, but nodded on his way to open the fridge as Jeff came into the kitchen too.

“Can I make you something to eat, Blaine? Do you think you’d like to try the soup again?” he asked.

Blaine shook his head and brought three beers out of the fridge offering one to each of his friends. Nick was hesitant while Jeff looked to his husband for guidance.

“Um… Blaine,” Nick ventured cautiously as Blaine twisted the cap off and lifted the bottle to his lips. “B, drinking alcohol while taking that medication is probably not such a good idea.”

Blaine continued to chug the beer without acknowledging Nick’s concern at all. He had downed almost half of the bottle’s contents when suddenly he choked and beer spluttered from his mouth and nose as he ran from the room toward the guest bathroom.

“Oh shit! Blaine,” exclaimed Nick running after him.

Jeff remained in the kitchen and replaced the other two beer bottles in the fridge. He wiped up the split beer and rinsed the cloth under the running water. Opening the grocery cupboard, he pulled out the packet of penne pasta he had found earlier and set about boiling water to cook it. Even if Blaine wasn’t able to eat, he and Nick should have something substantial because they were obviously in for a long night. While the pasta was boiling on the stove, indifferent to the drama taking place in the house, Jeff could hear the soft murmuring of his husband as he offered comfort to his friend who was still puking in the bathroom.

“It’s okay, Blainers,” Nick hummed as he stroked his friend’s back. “We’re here for you, mate. Shit, Blaine, we’re not going anywhere. We’re here for you.”

Blaine sat back on his haunches, his exhausted face pale from the exertion of heaving an already empty stomach. Weakly, he accepted the warm wet facecloth from his friend and wiped his face. As he gave the cloth back to Nick, their eyes met and Nick’s heart ached as he read the torment in Blaine’s usually sparkling honey-hazel eyes.

“Blaine - ” he reached out for his friend and Blaine went willingly into Nick’s embrace. Nick held on tightly as Blaine’s dry sobs wracked his body. His hands rubbed up and down Blaine’s back offering what little comfort he could in an attempt to ground Blaine.

An hour later, Nick settled down beside Jeff on the sofa in the living room and picked up the bowl of pasta Jeff had placed on the coffee table.

“Is he asleep?” Jeff whispered.

“Yeah, finally,” replied Nick. 

“Nicky, he must be exhausted,” observed Jeff. “He sobbed in your arms for a good half hour, there.”

Nick agreed with his husband. “But, I did manage to get him to take a tablet again, so hopefully he’ll sleep soundly throughout the night and in the morning we can make arrangements with Bas when he comes.”

 

_Gently Chad pulled out of his husband’s body and collapsed exhausted on the bed beside him. Blaine immediately curled into his chest to snuggle and Chad dragged him closer, giving them each time to settle and regain their breath. He reached for the box of tissues beside the bed and carefully cleaned them both up, discarding the used tissues over the edge of the bed when he was done._

_“Blaine, who knew married sex would be so much better than engaged sex!” Chad mused getting comfortable again. “You are so bloody wonderful!” He kissed the curly brown head resting on his chest._

_Blaine giggled. “You told me that engaged sex was so much better than boyfriend sex,” he teased, his hand running lightly over Chad’s stomach._

_Chad chuckled at the memory. “Yeah, but if I remember correctly, you were the one who decided that sex was definitely much better than simply making out.”_

_Blaine pushed up on his elbows to look down at his husband. “Infinitely better,” he agreed and caught Chad’s red swollen lips in his again. Blaine groaned at the sweaty musky taste of his husband’s mouth as he remembered where it had been that night. He lifted his head once more to lock gazes with his husband - how he loved the sound of that word._

_“I love making love with you, Chad - every single time. You make me feel so amazing, so cherished, so loved. I’m glad that it was you – all those years ago and I’m glad it’s you, now, on our wedding night.”_

_Chad reached up to cup Blaine’s face bringing his lips close to his own. “And it’ll be me forever.”_

 

About three hours after the last lights had been switched off in the Anderson’s home, lightning ripped open the dark night sky as ruthlessly as a slasher’s knife. The accompanying thunder roared in distress while the rain continued to fall steadily with dogged determination. And, in the darkness of the room in which he slept, Blaine’s grief-stricken eyes filled with tears once more, only this time his cries were silent. 

*****

**[Nick] “Thanks Kurt, I did get your message and I did pass it along to Blaine. Although his phone has been fully charged for days now, he refuses to pick it up. Jeff and I can’t understand it at all.”**

[Kurt] “Has he spoken yet?”

**[Nick] “Not a word. Sebastian suggested a trip to the doctor may be in order but Blaine just shook his head. It’s like he’s too sad to talk or too tired to talk.”**

[Kurt] “How is he arranging the funeral then, if he’s not speaking?”

**[Nick] “He’s resorted to writing things down. He and Bas have been emailing each other so he’s definitely getting his thoughts and ideas across. But each email he sends usually ends in tears.”**

[Kurt] “He’s still crying a lot, then?”

**[Nick] “It’s not so much crying really – there’s no sound. It’s just this steady stream of tears that flows from his eyes.”**

**[Nick] “Kurt, you still there?”**

[Kurt] “Yeah, I’m here Nick; I’m just dealing with my own tears. I can’t bear that he’s hurting so badly, you know. And I feel so damned useless.”

**[Nick] “Hey, Kurt? I know you two used to text each other quite regularly but since he refuses to pick up his phone, perhaps you could try emailing him? I’ll text you the address you could use.”**

[Kurt] “Oh Nick! That would be awesome. I have missed ‘chatting’ to him. Even if he doesn’t feel up to responding to me, it will make me feel as if I’m helping in some way. Thank you.”

*********

**From: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**To: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**Date: Monday, 28 April**

**RE: You**

**Dearest Hobbit**

**Nick gave me this email address and I do hope you don’t mind me arriving unannounced and uninvited in your Inbox but apparently you aren’t too keen on your phone right now. I guess I probably broke it on the night of your musical with all my texts – sorry.**

**Gah! Blaine – I write for living and apparently am supposedly quite good at it but I’ve started this letter and deleted it four times already. I have no idea how to adequately express my sincerest condolences at the loss of your husband. I can’t even begin to comprehend your pain right now having never lost a partner like that.**

**However, I remember feeling very lost when my mother died. So very lost and so very small and so very very frightened. Although, it was ten years later, I felt the same way when Finn died. Perhaps it’s the same for you too? Please know that you are not alone – in whatever way I can- I am here for you. Please believe that.**

**I wish I could magically take the pain away, Blaine, but unfortunately that is not a gift I have. I can only offer you my shoulder so if you ever want or need to ‘chat’ please feel free to use this email address of mine. It’s a private one Santana set up for me.**

**Yours, with affection**

**Kurt**

From his position on the sofa, Jeff watched Blaine’s face soften as he read his emails and for the first time in three days, Jeff saw the tension in Blaine’s shoulders relax. He continued to observe carefully as Blaine wiped the tears from his eyes, blew his nose and then nodded at Sebastian who was sitting in the armchair, his own laptop open on his lap.

“Are you sure, Blaine? You are happy with all the details for the service and the private cremation afterwards?”

Sebastian checked a final time with his friend’s widower. _Shit! What a ghastly thing to have to call Blaine – but that’s what he is now. Blaine had been Chad’s everything: – boyfriend, fiancé, husband and now this – this dreadful final label._ Sebastian breathed deeply to steady his own emotions as he looked to Blaine for confirmation.

Blaine nodded again. He tried to say something to Sebastian. He opened his mouth to articulate his thoughts but no sounds came out. Just like yesterday at lunch time when he had tried to tell Jeff that yes, he was starving, nothing had come out of his mouth. He’d coughed and tried again, but it was useless. 

It seemed his voice had died with Chad.


	12. Chapter 12

**** **From: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**To: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**Date: Friday 2 May**

**RE: Thank You**

**Dear Kurt**

**I know what you mean about starting an email and then deleting it. I have done that several times in the past few days but I have promised myself that this one – _this one_ , I will send.**

**I am sitting on a bench on the Ocean Village wharf with my feet up on the rail guards in front of me and my computer nestling comfortably on my lap. Above me a few seagulls are shrieking their disdain at the clouds rolling in from the sea as they dip and dive above the numerous yachts that are berthed in the marina before me. Behind me is a row of red brick buildings sporting overpriced, high class apartments above watering holes for the ‘not so’ rich and famous. I wish you could see it - it’s one of my all-time favourite secret places in all of Southampton.**

**_Shit, Blaine_ I can almost hear you exclaim. _What’s with the scenic narrative?_ To be honest with you Kurt, I’d much rather sit here and describe the sights and sounds and smells – did I mention the smell? – I love that fresh ocean salty smell that goes ever so very well with our famous English fried fish and vinegary chips. Yes, I’d much rather describe to you the antics of the seagulls and the bobbing of the yachts … than describe my living hell of the past week.**

**Yet, it appears nothing, no seagulls, no bobbing fishing boats, no tantalising fried fish smell even, can stop me from thinking back to this time last week.**

**I had no idea it would be my last day together with Chad and I’m driving myself insane wondering that _if_ I had known that, would I have done anything differently. I was so caught up in the musical, caught up in costume drama, caught up with little Simon and Rosie and your texts which made me smile. ( _I don’t think I’ve thanked you for those – have I? I do remember thinking at one point on that day that I was so lucky to have you in my life because, amidst the hectic schedule of your own busy day, you were making time for me. Thank you for that.)_ **

**I was so caught up with _life_ that day, Kurt that it never occurred to me to ponder its fragility or fleeting frailty. My kids were great, the musical was awesome, the accolades were plentiful and I loved every moment, naively thinking I had a right to. And how cruelly were all my illusions of grandeur smashed.**

Blaine stopped typing for a moment to wipe away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. _No,_ he admonished sternly, _you will get through this today, Blaine – now!_

**This time last week, I had no idea that after I said goodbye to you on the phone, so many things would go so differently to what I had planned.**

**Instead of having Chad attend the concert, I received his ‘Good Luck’ flowers from Jeff. Instead of going out to celebrate after the concert with my husband and friends, I went home alone to a deserted house and a bottle of ‘make me feel better’ whiskey. Instead of enjoying this week basking in the glow of the success of the musical, I’ve drowned in a swamp of absolute grief and despair that has punched the air from my lungs.**

**I find, only here, near the ocean, can I breathe properly for the first time again since Saturday morning.**

**This time last week, Chad was alive. I keep replaying the memories of breakfast that morning over and over in my head. Was there anything I missed? Was there some sort of clue to the cataclysmic change that was about to strike us? How could I not know that that would be our last breakfast together? I was so wrapped up in thoughts of the musical, perhaps I missed some cosmic clue that I should have paid attention to. Would I have hugged him tighter, kissed him longer? Perhaps I would not have let him go at all. I made our lunches, as I usually did; I reminded him as I fixed his tie that the concert started promptly at 7pm and that Jeff had the tickets for him and Sebastian. He kissed me goodbye and cheerfully told me he’d see me later.**

**The clouds are gathering rapidly now and soon they’ll empty their swollen bellies all over us again. ( _That’s why some uncouth Englishmen call it “pissing with rain”.)_ It rained all of Saturday when Chad died and there was a terrific thunder storm that night. I knew it would rain yesterday at the funeral too, and I’m glad it did because it would have been obscene to say goodbye to Chad on a beautifully warm sunny day.**

**Sebastian took care of everything. I’ve been a bit out of it this week I’m afraid. ( _No British stiff upper lip for me – I’ve cried, am crying still, like a baby – although I’ve heard even babies stop at some point so I guess I’ll have to find another, more accurate comparison._ ) **

**The service was held at the chapel of the crematorium and was conducted by a fairly pleasant elderly gentleman on contract to the establishment. I was astounded to see that PC Puck and PC Quinn – the two police officers who drove me to the hospital - were in the service; they spoke to me afterwards, offering their sympathies and hugged me. Really solidly kind and compassionate people they are. Sebastian read the eulogy in which he paid a beautiful tribute to Chad. His words broke my heart and I wept throughout his speech.**

**I asked Nick to read my tribute because for some reason or other I can’t seem to use my voice. It’s clear gone – like I have a severe case of laryngitis. I thought you might want to read/hear it too?**

Blaine carefully exited the email window and called up the Word document he wanted from his folder on the desktop. Quickly he copied and pasted the text into the body of the email for Kurt.

**“I’ve asked Nick – my oldest and dearest friend to read this for me today because, unfortunately, I appear to have lost my voice.**

**Thank you – one and all - for being here today as we bid farewell to Chad who touched all your lives and mine in some way or another. Each of you sitting here will have your own memories of him – you may remember his wicked sense of humour, his cheesy witty comeback lines, his epic love of four seasons pizza, his genuine kindness, his boundless generosity, his fanatical addiction to Manchester United and his appalling fashion sense.**

**Mostly, I remember how he made me feel. When Chad became a part of my life suddenly my soul burned brighter and my heart loved deeper. Chad taught me to chase my dreams; he encouraged me to push my limits and urged me towards greater creativity. Chad’s capacity to love unconditionally challenged me to be all that I could be.**

**I’m a musician – you all know that – expressing myself in words like this is not my talent so I’ve borrowed a few from the poet WH Auden, and, with permission, I’d like to tell you that Chad was “my North, my South, my East and West; My working week and my Sunday rest; my noon, my midnight, my talk, my song,” and like the poet, I also thought that “love will last forever” but we were both wrong. Though he no longer breathes beside me, I will love Chad until I too close my eyes in eternal sleep.**

**I can honestly say that I am a better man, a better person for having known Chad and for having been loved by him.”**

As the auto save on his email account notified Blaine of the quick-save function, Blaine felt the first raindrop. Quickly he closed his laptop and walked briskly to _The Firkin Seagull_ , entering the warm bright pub just as the heavens open and the deluge came down. Blaine pointed to his choice of draft beer as the bar-tender greeted him cheerfully. Receiving no return greeting from Blaine, the bar-tender shrugged his shoulders. When the beer had been pulled and placed in front of him, Blaine lifted it up and walked to a booth beside a window where he settled himself again. He opened his laptop to continue his email to Kurt.

**I’ve had to retreat into a nearby pub because the rain has come down and I’ll just wait it out in here for a while.**

**I know it was lame of me to use Auden’s poem but I’ve always thought that there was no-one who expressed lost love quite as eloquently as he does in that poem. Scholars of Shakespeare might disagree with me on that one but I hold fast.**

**I know I’m rambling and you’re probably busy and can’t wait to get to the end of this email to carry on with what you’re doing but you did invite me to “talk” to you, so now I’m talking. Feel free to leave and come back to it when you have time.**

**Sebastian says he will discuss the contents of Chad’s Last Will with me early next week. Nick and Jeff have invited me to spend the weekend at their house and I’ve accepted. I’ll drive over there later this afternoon. They have been awesome. I know you and Nick have been texting because he has been very good about passing on your messages so you probably know how supportive he and Jeff have been. They’ve slept at my house every night this week and Nick only went back to school today having spent every other day taking care of me. Jeff’s been cooking up a storm every day and Nick has kept me in a healthy supply of tissues and hugs.**

**I was pretty out of it last weekend and earlier in the week, doped up with sleeping tablets but last night I decided I didn’t want to take one. I was exhausted after the funeral and so I actually slept without needing tablets although I was awake very early this morning. It’s the early morning fuzziness that gets me - that infinitesimal moment _just_ between sleep and wake where things of this world and the next are blurred. And, despite whatever hold I have on my emotions I lose it immediately I realize that I’ve woken in a bed that’s not ours because he’s no longer here. **

Blaine paused in his typing to raise his glass to his lips and sip his beer thoughtfully, his mind racing back to Sunday morning. He was huddled under a blanket on the sofa pretending to watch mindless television with Jeff and Nick when the doorbell rang. The sound reverberated into his very soul and Jeff gasped in dismay when he saw the blood drain completely from Blaine’s face.

“Blaine! What is it?” Jeff asked in alarm as Nick opened the door to admit Sebastian. Blaine shook his head in an effort to tell Jeff not to worry and before he could work it out in his own head he was being gathered into an awkward hug by a tearful Sebastian.

**The doorbell’s been banned, Kurt. Every single time it rang with yet another delivery of flowers, I relived those moments on the doorstep with the police officers. I just couldn’t take it anymore so I made Nick disconnect it. Just about everybody who knew Chad sent flowers – the school too.**

**Mrs Phillips brought some cards from the children for me yesterday. She gave them to Jeff at the funeral but I haven’t found the courage to read them yet. Perhaps when I’m feeling stronger and have finally stopped crying I may be able to read all their sweet messages. I received an official email from the Head of School yesterday in which she told me to take all the time I need to grieve.**

**How long is that do you think? I know I shall miss Chad and grieve his loss every single day for the rest of my life. Nick explained to the Head about the temporary loss of voice thing and she said not to worry. I’m sure that when I do stop crying, my voice will remember what it is supposed to do.**

**Well, my friend, my beer is finished and the sun is making a concerted effort outside so I should probably wrap this up and head home.**

**It really has been most cathartic to write to you so I just might do it again.**

**Perhaps, if you have time, you could write back and let me know how the rest of your weekend in New York was.**

**Thanks, Kurt, for … everything.**

**Blaine**

Blaine read through his words, checking for typos and spelling errors and made the necessary changes to his sentence construction as suggested by the prompt. Then, with a deep sigh, he pushed the send button and watched his mail make its way across cyberspace to Kurt in L.A. Blaine closed the laptop and stored it carefully in his messenger bag. He settled his bill at the bar counter, turned to head out the door onto the wharf and towards his car. 

_This time last week, you were alive Chad_ and Blaine’s breath caught in the sob that escaped.

*********

In his study, Kurt devoured Blaine’s email like a starved man. He had been checking his Inbox regularly since sending his email off to Blaine and had to admit to being very disappointed with the silence that came with each passing day. 

Fortunately, Nick had kept Kurt up to date with the details of Blaine’s well-being that week and the arrangements for the funeral so, despite Blaine’s lack of correspondence, Kurt knew pretty much what was going on but it meant so much more to finally have Blaine’s version of events, despite the fact that Kurt had to stop reading several times to blow his nose and wipe away the cascading tears.

“Oh Blaine!” he whispered at one point, his hand tracing the letters on the computer screen, “oh, your poor, poor broken heart.”

*********

**From: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**To: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**Date: 4 May**

**RE: New York**

**Hobbit**

**Thank you so much for your email on Friday. It was lovely to “hear” your voice again. I’ve missed “talking” to you. Thank you for trusting me with so many of your painful thoughts and memories and believe me when I say I _do_ understand because, I do, Blaine, I really do. **

**When I was helping Carole, my stepmom, pack up Finn’s room after his death, she told me that for a brief moment each morning when she woke up she would forget that Finn was dead but then she would remember and the pain would punch her all over again. I know that I will spend the rest of my life missing him too as, no doubt, you will miss Chad every day.**

**I repeat – I am here for you in whatever way you need. Please make use of me, Blaine. I really wish I could have dropped everything and rushed to your side but I take comfort in the fact that you are surrounded by loving friends. ( _Santana caught me looking at available flights and almost handcuffed me to her side for the rest of the day! I swear the woman is insane!_ )**

**But talking of insane … _Wicked_! Blaine!! Oh my Gaga!!! How insanely awesome is that musical? I loved it and decided the thrill of seeing it live on Broadway was worth every moment of Auntie Snix on tour with me! The costumes, the sets, _and_ the musical numbers – I could go on and on.**

**When I read your tribute to Chad – _thank you for sending it to me as part of your email_ – I thought of Elphaba and Glinda’s song: _I have been changed for good_. Knowing Chad and loving Chad made you part of who you are today. YOU are his legacy, Blaine. In that way, Chad’s life has reason although his early departure will never make any sense. Because you knew Chad, YOU have been changed for good.**

Blaine stopped reading Kurt’s email, found the song on YouTube and with headphones in his ears he let the music play, let the words wash over his body, let the memories of Chad rush through his mind and let the tears flow. When it was over and the silence became too much, he opened his eyes to find Nick standing over him, his eyes full of concern.

“What are you doing, B?” he asked quietly. 

Blaine opened his mouth to tell Nick about the email from Kurt and the song but nothing came out. Choked sounds that seemed to take his breath away were all that he managed. His eyes flew open in alarm and his arm flailed around his head.

“Hey, hey B, relax” soothed Nick immediately. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” He sat down quickly on the sofa beside his friend and rubbed his back.

“Blaine,” he ventured, “Why don’t you open a Word document and then you can type your replies to me? We need to talk about a few things and I don’t want you getting worked up over your voice. Can we do that, B?”

Blaine nodded and, minimising Kurt’s email, he opened a blank word document and looked over at Nick expectantly. Nick smiled at him but continued to rub Blaine’s’ back as he spoke.

“Jeff and I want to know if you’d like to move in here with us. We’ve got plenty of space and you know you are more than welcome.” Even as he spoke, Nick could see Blaine shake his head in response and then his hands moved quickly over the keyboard.

**I appreciate the offer Nick but I can’t do that. I must go home. As hard as it is, I must go home and begin to make sense of life as it is now. I can’t keep hiding from the things I must face.**

Nick nodded in understanding. “I get that Blainers, but there’s no timetable for these things. You are allowed to take as much time as you need. There’s absolutely no rush.”

**I know. Thank you. I’m going to head home this evening and tomorrow I’ll meet with Sebastian. That’s as many plans as I’m able to make right now.**

“That’s great Blaine, really great. But please remember that if at ANY time you want out of the house or you need break – please know, that this is as much your home as it ours. After all, you were the one who found it for us!” Both men smiled at the distant memory of that happy day many years ago now.

*********

[Nick] Kurt, have you heard from Blaine this week?

**[Kurt] No, Nick, actually nothing this week at all. He emailed on Sunday night to say he’d left your house and was determined to sleep at home.**

[Nick] He and Seb met on Monday when Bas explained the details of Chad’s Will but we haven’t heard from him since Tuesday when he declined Jeff’s dinner invitation by email.

**[Kurt] I emailed him on Monday night but haven’t received a reply. Have you been passed the house?**

[Nick] Of course, we bloody have! And no, he wasn’t home. I wish I knew what the deal was with him and his phone! Why in the bloody hell won’t he pick the damn thing up and at least bloody text?

[Nick] Sorry.

**[Kurt] No need, Nick. You’re worried, I get that. Where do you think he might have gone if he wanted to escape?**

[Nick] I don’t know, Kurt. I’ve tried all the usual places but he’s not there.

[Nick] I don’t know what to do.

**[Kurt] Nick, last week Friday, Blaine sent me a fairly lengthy email from where he was sitting on a bench at Ocean Village Wharf. He said the ocean allowed him to breathe – have you checked there?**

[Nick] Hey, Kurt, this is Jeff texting … Nick is driving. We’re headed there right now. Thanks for the tip.

**[Kurt] No worries! … um … keep me posted would you? I’d like to know he’s safe.**

Kurt swiped his phone closed after Jeff replied that he would let Kurt know as soon as they had found Blaine. His thumb tapped the side of the phone as Kurt couldn’t decide whether he should put the phone down or not, as if holding onto the instrument would help Nick and Jeff as they search the Southampton docks for their missing friend.

“Blaine,” whispered Kurt into the quiet air of his study. “Where are you, hobbit?”

The quiet was shattered as the doorbell rang at Kurt’s front door. He checked through the peephole to find Santana on his doorstep. She must have guessed that he was looking because she held up a champagne bottle and grinned widely. Rolling his eyes, he opened the door.

“Luscious Lips, today is your lucky day!” she sang out by way of greeting as she breezed past him into his living room still waving the bottle in the air. “You and I are going to celebrate the fact that I am positively the most fabulous person on this planet.”

“Santana,” Kurt interjected tiredly, “as always, your timing sucks.”

Santana raised an eyebrow at him but decided to ignore his mood as she continued towards the kitchen still speaking as she walked. 

“Using my amazing powers of persuasion and my drop-dead gorgeous charm, I have managed to secure you a meeting with none other than Mr Grantley!” She waited for the squeal that would accompany Kurt’s dance of joy and was quite put out when none was forthcoming.

Picking up the flute glasses she found in the cupboard she walked back to the living room to find Kurt tapping out a text furiously on his phone.

“Did you just hear what I said?” she asked testily. “Kurt!” she yelled when he didn’t answer. His head snapped up.

“Sorry, Santana, just give me a minute,” and he returned to finish the text.

Santana was furious when he finally stopped typing but when he eventually looked at her she noticed just how pale he was. His forehead was crinkled in worry lines and his eyes were unfocused. She closed her mouth and waited for him to explain.

“They found him,” he stated quietly.

“Found who? Wait… who found who?” she asked confused. “Who’s missing?”

Kurt sat down on the sofa with his phone still in his hand as he looked up at her. “Blaine,” he replied.

“Blaine’s missing?” she asked in surprise as she quickly sat down beside him.

“Yes, well no, not anymore,” he responded with a sigh. “They found him. Nick and Jeff found him … at the wharf … where I thought he might be.”

“Okay, let me see if I get this straight - ” Santana laughed tartly, “hmmm, I always feel straight is the wrong word to use here.” Kurt glared at her icily.

“Let me see if I’ve got this correct” she amended. “Blaine’s missing in England and from your living room here in L.A. _you_ told Nick and Jeff where they could find him. Man, that’s creepy shit. How did you know?”

“It was just hunch, okay? Based on something he wrote about last week.” Kurt didn’t want to go into details.

“And is he okay?”

“No, Santana he isn’t. He’s been holed up in some stupid pub for two days. He’s as drunk as a skunk.” Santana raised eye eyebrows at the unfamiliar turn of phrase spilling from Kurt’s mouth.

“Jeff’s words,” Kurt continued by way of explanation. “The bar owner let him sleep in one of the storage rooms overnight since he was too drunk to drive and couldn’t talk to give any information; told Nick and Jeff that Blaine had been at the pub since they opened on Wednesday morning.”

“Aw shit, Ponyboy,” Santana reached out to grasp Kurt’s hand. “He’s hurting badly isn’t he?” Santana’s voice was kind and her eyes were soft. Kurt’s eyes were wet with tears as she pulled him into a hug.

“Remember how messed up we all were eight years ago ‘Tana?” he asked and she nodded grimly, remembering her own private battle with Finn’s death. “But we had each other. Blaine’s going through this all on his own.”

Santana shook her head. “Now, Kurt, you know that’s not true. He’s got his friends around him. Look they’ve just gone out and found him.”

“But he’d been missing already for two days ‘Tana. Nobody heard from him since his meeting with Sebastian. Seb’s busy, Nick’s back at school and Jeff .. well …Jeff goes into a hole when he paints, barely remembers his name when he’s in the middle of a project. Everybody’s lives are carrying on except Blaine’s. Don’t you see that?”

“I do see that Kurt, in fact that’s kinda why I arrived with the champagne and huge grin.” She waited for Kurt’s attention.

“Because … ?” he prompted, looking at her with his eyebrows raised – just slightly irritated but at the same time intrigued.

“I got you a meeting with Mr Grantley. He wants to discuss your ideas for a movie proposal for _Blaze_!”

“Oh ‘Tana,” breathed Kurt. “That is truly amazing. Thank you, you wonderfully, insane, brilliant, fabulous friend.” Kurt paused and looked at her honestly, “What would I do without you in my life?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Santana responded airily. “Possibly you’d be living somewhere in New York, ever in Rachel Berry’s shadow, at her eternal beck and call.”

*********

**From: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**To: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**Date: 9 May**

**RE: Sorry**

**Kurt**

**Nick says I own you an apology so I’m writing to apologise. This is me saying sorry.**

**Blaine**

*********

**From: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**To: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**Date: 10 May**

**RE: Sorry**

**That’s okay Blaine. You just scared us all. Please don’t do that again.**

*********

**From: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**To: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**Date: 11 May**

**RE: Sorry**

**Shit! Kurt, I’ve just reread my “apology” and I am more than appalled. Please forgive me – I was really angry on Friday and I didn’t mean to be rude. I am so ashamed of my actions and I should never have taken my anger out on you. I was angry the whole of last week, I think. ( _Apparently “anger is allowed but alcohol – not so much,” so says Nick who has been spouting pearls of wisdom in the form of grief counselling for the last two days_.)**

**On Monday, I barely made it out of the meeting with Sebastian without punching him. I couldn’t believe he could sit there and calmly, in his most lawyerly voice, tell me the details of Chad’s Will. I just cried, Kurt. The whole time he spoke, the tears just ran down my cheeks. At one point, he even told me to pull myself together and concentrate which is when I wanted to hit him the second time. I should have let Nick come with me. He wouldn’t have stood for Seb’s bullshit and would’ve torn strips off him for speaking to me like that.**

**Anyway, I barely understood what he was saying and eventually I simply signed where he wanted me to sign just to get him to shut up and then, I got the hell out of there. I badly needed a drink so I drove home and then went down to the pub on the corner near our house. The owner threw me out when they closed and I don’t remember getting home at all except I know I woke the next day sprawled out over the sofa.**

**After I showered and changed my clothes, I drove to the hospital to see Dr. Stephens. I wanted to ask him about my voice. I need my voice back so I can go back to work - can’t teach without my voice. He wasn’t at the hospital when I got there, but the staff sister who had been there the morning Chad died, was there and she gave me the number of a throat specialist in London.**

**At home again, I emailed for an appointment and got a cancellation for next week Wednesday. I was so tired by then, I thought I’d try to have a sleep and I went to lie down on the guest bed. But then I started thinking that I was silly and got up to go lie down on our bed in our room. But, I couldn’t even step into the room before collapsing on the floor in tears. It was useless. It’s almost as though there was an invisible barrier that wouldn’t allow me to cross the threshold.**

**I then emailed the Salvation Army and they came within the hour to take away the bed. And while they were here, I got them to take away all Chad’s clothing, as well. On Tuesday night, I slept on the floor of our bedroom but I had to take a double dose of sleeping tablets to get through the night. So, in the morning, I was stiff and sore from the hard uncomfortable floor and in desperate need of a drink far away from the house.**

**I don’t remember much of the rest of the week except when Nick’s familiar voice floated through the haze of drunken misery and scooped me up in his arms. I think I stopped crying then or perhaps that’s when I started – I can’t remember.**

**Anyway, I just wanted to say sorry for worrying you, Nick and Jeff. I truly am very sorry.**

**Sorry.**

**Blaine**

*********

[Kurt] How bad is it?

**[Nick] Pretty bloody messed up in fact. He realized a few days ago that in his drunken stupor last week, he got rid all of Chad’s clothes. And now he’s bloody sorry and wants them bloody back.**

[Kurt] Shit!

[Kurt] Sorry!

**[Nick] You apologising to me for swearing? That’s a bloody laugh. I’m at my wits end, Kurt.**

[Kurt] How did the appointment go with the specialist in London?

**[Nick] From what I can make out from what the doc says, there’s nothing physiologically wrong with Blaine’s throat, voice or vocal cords. Doc seems to think it is a symptom of extreme trauma.**

[Kurt] Like PTSD?

**[Nick] Yeah, something like that. Doc seems to think that B’s voice will return when he has come to terms with his loss.**

[Kurt] Oh shit!

**[Nick] Yeah, that’s what I said. He’s bloody trapped in a spiral of grief. He’s desperately sad to have lost Chad but has no bloody way to articulate that and by not being able to articulate his feelings and emotions, he has no way of bloody overcoming them.**

[Kurt] What about music? Is he playing?

**[Nick] Nope, he won’t touch the piano or guitar at all.**

[Kurt] What about his job?

**[Nick] The school gave him an extended leave of absence for special circumstances. He doesn’t have to return until the new academic year in September.**

[Kurt] Well that’s a relief at least.

**[Nick] Is it though? He’s got bloody nothing to do, Kurt and all day to bloody do it in. He’s depressed and I’m bloody worried.**

Kurt stared thoughtfully at the text from Nick on his phone. Sitting comfortably in his leather swing chair at his desk in his study, he glanced out the window as his border collie, annoyed at the impudence of some birds that had landed on the patio in search of the fruit treats Kurt left out for them, barked crossly. It was a gorgeously warm bright sunny day in Los Angeles and, as his eyes followed the sun’s rays which smashed through the glass of the study window and shone fiercely onto his desk illuminating just a strip of the wood, Kurt began to smile. Quickly he began to text.

[Kurt] Nick, I may have a plan.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Santana blew up. 

“You did _what_?” she screeched over the phone at Kurt. “Why in the name of all that is Gaga would you do that?”

“He’s my friend, Santana. He’s hurting badly and he needs help. I think this will help him.”

“No! Nah uh, Just no, alright? You’re crossing the line, Ponyboy. You’re going to get hurt and I don’t want to see that happen.” Santana was very concerned and Kurt could hear it in her tone. 

“You can deny it all you like, Luscious Lips, but I _know_ you have feelings for him. His husband _just_ died, Kurt, and now you’re inviting him to come to stay with you, _here?_ Tell me, Princess what in sweet hell were you thinking?”

Kurt knew Santana was really angry with him because she tossed every nickname she had for him into that particular tirade. ‘Ponyboy’ was indulgent, sometimes ‘Luscious Lips’ was exasperation but ‘Princess’ she reserved for angry days. He fought hard to stay calm and reasonable with his friend.

“He needs a change of scenery, ‘Tana,” Kurt argued. “He needs sun and laughter and comfort and good Californian wine and, … and besides, Nick and Jeff agree. Blaine’s got the whole of the summer off from school to allow his voice to recover so what’s he going to do in not-so-sunny Southampton for three months?”

“Kurt, I’m more worried about you,” Santana explained. “Lord knows I’d also run away from it all to grieve – I don’t doubt that you and Nick and Jeff and all of Southampton’s finest think this is the best for your hobbit. But, I’m interested in what’s good for _you_. Because you seem hell bent on _not_ being concerned about yourself at all.”

“That’s not true ‘Tana. I know what I’ve got to accomplish in these three months and I promise you I will be ready for that meeting. Having Blaine in L.A. is not going to disrupt my work goals.”

“Hmm…” Santana wasn’t going to give up that easily. “And, what does your father think of all this?”

Kurt swallowed audibly at Santana’s low blow. “I haven’t discussed it with him yet, ‘Tana. Last time I checked I was a grown man capable of making my own decisions without running to get my father’s permission each time I wanted to do something.”

“Ooooo….” snickered Santana delightedly on the other side of the phone. “Defensive Kurt is guilty Kurt,” she declared. “You think he’s going to agree with me because he loves you as much as I do and also won’t want to see you deliberately set yourself up for hurt.”

“No, Santana, I don’t. I _will_ chat to him and tell him my plans for Blaine and he’ll applaud me for being a good friend because that’s how he brought me up. Now if you’ll excuse me I do have work to do!” 

Kurt slid his phone shut and simultaneously closed his eyes. _You know she’s right, Kurt. You do have feelings for Blaine and quite possibly inviting him to California is just as much about you as it is about him._

*********

**From: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**To: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**Date: 21 May**

**RE: Travel Plans**

**Hey Kurt**

**So, Nick just got off the phone with the travel agent and apparently my air ticket is booked and I am confirmed for departure from Heathrow arriving LAX on 2 June. Nick says you’ve offered to collect me from the airport which is very kind of you but I really don’t want to be an imposition at all. I’m sure I could just take a cab from the airport to your home if you send me the address.**

**The invitation to visit you in America has blown me away and I feel I need to explain why at first I was reluctant to accept your kind offer. I don’t want you to think that I’m at all ungrateful for your kind hospitality – Kurt - you’ve been amazing through all this. It’s that there’s so much change in my life right now, I can barely cope. There are some days when I think it’s just easier to drink away the pain and the ache in my heart. At least when I’ve passed out then I don’t feel anything at all.**

**Nick will no doubt have told you of some of the less than stellar decisions I have made in my drunken stupor. But, I do realise how selfish that has been of me and I don’t want to worry Nick and Jeff or you, for that matter, any more. When I’m sober, I find it almost incomprehensible that in one moment my entire life has changed direction completely regardless of whether I am willing, ready or even able to deal with the changes.**

**It blows my mind to think that just two and a half months ago, when you met me in London, I was a confident, fairly successful English and Music teacher, married to the love of my life with plans to produce Southampton’s greatest ever school musical and possibly head to Devon and Cornwall with my husband and friends for some surfing in the summer holidays. And now, as I write this email to you it confounds me that not one of those statements is true anymore.**

**Thank you for the recommendation of the online American Sign Language Course. I have been following the tutorials for three days now and hopefully by the time I land in L.A. I will be fluent. I agree with you that being able to communicate with people will go a long way to helping me find some normality again.**

**Who knew that a vast proportion of one’s self confidence stems from the ability to speak? Jeff is convinced that the Californian sunshine will warm my vocal cords back into working order. I can only pray that he is right because I dread to think of what will become of me if my voice doesn’t return. There’s not much value in a voiceless music teacher, is there?**

Kurt stopped reading and sighed deeply. Being the one who was going to have to read and understand Blaine’s signing in order for them to have a decent conversation, he was now, more than ever, very grateful to his father for having registered them both for that sign language course the summer after his mother passed away. It was supposed to be something they could do together and although Kurt and Burt both came away fluent in sign communication, the course hadn’t exactly garnered the bond they had both been seeking.

As he thought of his dad, Kurt sighed again. He knew he was delaying the conversation he should have with his father although he knew it _had_ to happen soon and preferably _before_ Blaine arrived. Quickly he jotted down the flight details Blaine had included in the email and then closed the email account. He reached for his phone and, skimming through his contact list, found his dad’s number and pressed CALL.

“Kiddo!” Burt’s response on the phone was enthusiastic. “It’s been too long.”

Kurt smiled. No matter his age, his dad’s voice retained the ability to warm the corners of his heart and he immediately relaxed.

“Liar!” he teased. “I saw you four weeks ago or have you already forgotten?”

His dad chuckled on the other end. “Yeah, but then I had to share you with the rest of Lima. That’s not my idea of a visit home, son. How’ve you been?”

“I’m fine, dad. Fine, really; I’ve just been very busy since we got back from New York.”

“The book tour was a success then?” Burt needed to know that all was well.

“Yeah, yeah dad, it was. It was an incredible experience and I’m enormously grateful to everyone.”

“Mrs Phelps brought her car in the other day. Her brakes were squeaking and she wanted me to have a look. She said she bought your book for her grandchildren and they loved it. She said they were thrilled to meet you when you stopped by the middle school to sign their books.”

“Aw, that’s kind of her to say that, Dad. Listen I -”

“And Carole’s immediate supervisor at the hospital also told her that his children were reading your book for their semester book reports. Everyone’s real proud of you, Kurt. Me, especially. I’ll always be your number one fan, Kiddo.”

Kurt allowed himself to smile indulgently. His father really was one in a million.

“Thanks Dad, I appreciate that. You know I do. I would be nothing without you.” Kurt took a moment to collect himself before continuing. “I just wanted to give you a head’s up, though.” Kurt paused and took a deep breath as his dad interrupted, immediately concerned.

“Head’s up on what? You okay Kurt?”

“Dad, you remember that English teacher I met in London in March?”

“The one that you barrelled into and ruined his shirt?” asked Burt with a laugh.

“Yes…”

“The one who ended up spending the weekend with you?” Kurt recognised the teasing note in Burt’s voice.

“Yes, well …” he soldiered on.

“The married one?” Burt interjected and there was no more teasing and it was quiet on the phone before Kurt explained simply.

“Dad … his husband was killed in a car accident three weeks ago.”

“What? Oh, Kurt.” Burt’s shock was obvious in the gasp that Kurt heard down the telephone line.

“Yeah,” continued Kurt quickly as his dad recovered. “Well, the thing is, Dad, Blaine’s not been dealing with his loss very well at all. He’s lost his voice and is depressed and is on his own a lot and he’s been … well, he’s been drinking his pain away.”

“Look kid, I’m not going to judge anyone on how they deal with grief because we’ve all been there but how come he’s all alone?” Burt was immediately concerned.

“His mom left him and his dad when he was a just a baby and he now has no contact with his homophobic father. His two close friends have been very supportive but, well Nick teaches full-time and Jeff is … well … Jeff is Jeff. Sebastian is wrapped up in the law firm and there is just no one left to take care of him right now.”

“Hmm …” mused Burt. “Why do I think you’re about to tell me you’re flying out to the UK, Kurt?” he asked quietly.

“No! No, Dad not at all” Kurt hastened to correct his father. “I can’t do that – Santana’s got me over a barrel working on the screenplay version of _Blaze_ so I’ll be ready to pitch the idea to the meeting in August. No, I’m not flying to the UK.”

“Okay,” Burt said thoughtfully and Kurt held his breath. “What are you trying to tell me, kiddo?”

“Blaine’s school has given him an extended leave of absence because he’s lost his voice and obviously can’t teach. The doctor in London seems to think it’s a symptom of PTSD and his voice will return when he’s come to terms with his loss. So, um …. Dad, I’ve invited Blaine to come to L.A. for the summer.”

Kurt took a breath and waited for his dad to speak. When there was no comment forthcoming, he rushed on. “Clearly, he needs a change of scenery. He needs sunshine and warmth and new experiences.”

Kurt stopped, disinclined to be defensive with his father on this issue. Again, he waited for Burt’s reaction.

“Kurt,” Burt asked quietly in his son’s earpiece. “Do you know what you are doing, son?” 

And just like that Burt was able to cleave cleanly and effortlessly through the emotional detachment Kurt had attempted to create around his heart.

“I guess not, Dad,” he answered simply and honestly. “But, it’s because I _do_ care that I’ve got to help in some small way.”

“Well,” declared Burt, “who was it who coined the phrase ‘ _To thine own self be true’_ because I think that’s what you’re doing here, Kurt. You are the most compassionate person I know. You get that from your mother. Look, I don’t want to see you get hurt – obviously and I’m pretty sure you’re not interested in hearing me say that _this_ could hurt you. You probably know that.”

“Dad, I - ” Kurt wanted to explain but didn’t know how.

“Kurt, look,” continued Burt, “Blaine’s grieving and obviously in need of a friend like you right now. So be that for him, kiddo. Be his friend. Be there for him. Help him heal. Be all that he needs. These things have a way of working out, son.”

“Dad,” whispered Kurt, a lump in his throat, “what did I do to deserve you?”

“Nah, son. It’s me who’s the lucky one.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Kurt glanced up at the digital display board, assuring himself once more that Blaine’s British Airways flight had in fact landed and that passengers were due to collect their baggage from carousel number 6. He had been waiting for Blaine to come through the doors for around 15 minutes now. Nervously, Kurt played with the watch on his wrist shifting it into a different position. 

Inviting Blaine to join him in sunny L.A. was one thing, but standing here at the airport waiting for him to come through those automatic doors was another. Kurt’s mouth was dry and his heart was racing. _This was a mistake, you idiot,_ he chided himself. Closing his eyes momentarily, he shook his head to clear his mind and when he opened them again, they fell on Blaine walking cautiously through the opening the sliding doors had created. 

_He’s here!_ Kurt sucked in a deep breath as he watched Blaine rolling his suitcase on wheels beside him, his jacket clutched under his arm and his head swivelling from left to right in an attempt to find Kurt among the sea of faces that swam in front of him. Before he stepped forward to claim his friend, Kurt took in the long unruly curly hair and the scruffy beard that had been allowed to grow. _This is why he needs me, ‘Tana._

“Blaine!” he called out amidst the crowd.

Blaine looked up in the direction of the voice calling his name and saw Kurt standing a little way beyond the crowd at the barrier. Relief flooded his eyes; he smiled at his friend and raised his free arm in greeting.

“Head towards the left,” Kurt instructed, his voice raised slightly to be heard above the din of the crowd. “I’ll get you at the end.”

Blaine nodded in understanding and headed in the direction Kurt had pointed. Around him, his fellow passengers were falling into the arms of their loved ones. There were cries of laughter and tears of joy and the heightened sentiments around him were tugging at Blaine’s precarious grip on his own emotions. He reached the end of the cordoned off section where Kurt was standing and, as he reached his American friend, Blaine could no longer contain himself. His eyes were brimming with tears as Kurt grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a fierce hug. Blaine allowed his head to rest on Kurt’s shoulder as he relaxed into Kurt’s embrace.

“Blaine,” breathed Kurt quietly into his ear. “Oh, Blaine, I’m so sorry. I’m so bloody sorry.”

Blaine nodded in understanding and acknowledgement of the condolences. His hands squeezed Kurt’s sides where his arms had come to rest. Stepping back from his friend, he wiped his eyes and signed:

THANK YOU.

Kurt grabbed the suitcase handle and said, “Come on, follow me. I’ve got a car waiting for us just out front.” He turned to see Blaine gesturing for his suitcase. “No, it’s okay I’ve got it. Relax! Just follow me. We’ll talk in the car.”

Once Blaine’s suitcase was stowed carefully in the boot of the waiting car and the two men were comfortable on the back seat, the chauffeur swung the town car out of the airport pick up zone and joined the heavy traffic of the L.A. highway. Blaine raised his eyebrows questioningly at Kurt and gestured to the chauffeur who had just closed the privacy panel between himself and his passengers having checked with Kurt that their destination was indeed Kurt’s home.

“A birthday gift from Santana,” Kurt said by way of explanation. “She gave me the use of a chauffeur-driven car - anytime I want on twelve occasions. So, while you are here, we shall have to find some fun places to go to because I have nine left!”

Blaine smiled. YOU ARE SO GENEROUS. THANK YOU. His signing was good and Kurt was impressed with the confidence Blaine exuded as he made clear hand gestures.

“Nonsense!” he laughed. “I just hate driving in this ridiculous traffic.” 

Kurt wasn’t going to tell Blaine that this arrangement had actually been Burt’s idea. A few nights earlier his father had suggested to Kurt that it would be better for Kurt to be completely focused on Blaine during the first few hours of his arrival in L.A. and not on the traffic. Burt was sure Blaine would be overwhelmed with all that was unfamiliar and having Kurt pay close attention to what he was signing would be a way of grounding Blaine and helping him to relax. Kurt was grateful for his dad’s wisdom and forethought as he watched his friend’s eyes flit warily back and forth from inside the vehicle to outside and back to Kurt again.

“So, how was your flight?” Kurt asked. “Did you manage to get any sleep?”

IT WAS OKAY, Blaine replied but his shoulders shrugged and he shook his head as he signed, I DIDN’T SLEEP AT ALL. 

Kurt could see the dark shadows under Blaine’s eyes and realised that his friend probably hadn’t slept well since the end of April.

IT STILL SEEMS STRANGE TO ME THAT I’VE BEEN IN THE AIR FOR AROUND 11 HOURS BUT IT IS ONLY THREE HOURS AFTER MY DEPARTURE THIS MORNING, Blaine continued.

“I know,” replied Kurt. “The time difference always does my head in when I travel overseas. When I returned in March from London- I took a day or two to recover and readjust my body clock.”

He took Blaine’s hand in his and squeezed it as he continued to speak. “And you, my dear hobbit, are going to sleep as soon as we’ve settled you into your bedroom.”

Blaine reached over and covered Kurt’s hand. His eyes were threatening to spill the tears that had gathered there again. Gently, Kurt cupped Blaine’s cheek with his free hand and spoke softly.

“It’s going to be okay, Blaine. Here you will heal and I’m going to be with you as you do.”

Blaine nodded as the tears fell free and he pulled his hand away from Kurt’s to wipe them away. Kurt released Blaine’s other hand and when Blaine had his emotions back under control, he gestured to the window of the car.

ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME WHERE WE ARE? 

With a smile, Kurt launched into Tour Guide mode explaining exactly where they were in the city as the car made its way up the hill towards Kurt’s suburb.

*****

**From: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**To: NickandJeff@gmail.com**

**Date: 2 June**

**RE: News Update**

**Hi there**

**Just to let you know Blaine has arrived safely in L.A. and as I type this he is sleeping soundly on the bed in his bedroom.**

**He says the flight was okay but he didn’t get much sleep. As soon as I got him home, I managed to persuade him to eat some of the lunch I’d prepared earlier and he drank some of my special camomile herbal tea so when I walked past his room ten minutes ago, he was snoring away for the A Side!**

**We’ll keep you guys updated.**

**Take care and thanks for getting him to agree to this – I appreciate it.**

**Kurt**

Kurt pushed the send button and then settled more comfortably into his chair as he opened the folder called SCEENPLAY on his desktop. Santana was still worried that Blaine’s arrival and visit would cost Kurt valuable time away from the screenplay but Kurt had promised her that he would be ready with a final draft in time for his August meeting with Mr Grantley. 

Calypso, his border collie, curled up comfortably underneath the desk, securing for herself a small patch of afternoon sunshine. Having greeted Blaine with an absurd number of licks, she had decided he would be permitted to potter around Kurt’s home. Because Kurt didn’t want her barking to disturb Blaine’s sleep, he’d allowed her to stay indoors and so as her nose rested on the toe of Kurt’s shoe, she sighed contentedly. 

Kurt brought his coffee cup up to his lips and sipped slowly as his eyes danced over the words he had typed so far. Frowning, slightly, he replaced the mug and began to type away furiously.

*****

Blaine surfaced reluctantly. His body felt heavy and his mind was sluggish as it fought valiantly against the inevitable consciousness that came with waking. Slowly his sleep-encrusted eyes opened and from his prone position on the bed, uncomprehendingly, he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. It took a while for his brain to catch up with his eyes but eventually he recalled Kurt ushering him in here earlier. _Earlier?_ Blaine wondered. _What is the time now?_

Pulling his arm up from where it was hanging uselessly over the edge of the bed, Blaine looked at his watch which registered 9:15 on the 3 June. _Geez!_ Blaine thought, _I slept right through yesterday afternoon and all of the night._ He rolled over and sat up, resting his head against the luxurious headboard. Silently, he cast his eyes around Kurt’s guest suite.

Vaguely, he remembered Kurt saying something the day before about having refurbished the room in December of the previous year and Blaine had admired the tasteful decor. A soft silky beige colour painted on the wall complimented the muted mint green of the linens and throw cushions. A sofa and an armchair were casually arranged around an oval table just in front of huge windows covered with floor to ceiling drapes. A large flat screen television was mounted on the wall opposite the queen size bed and tucked away in a quaint alcove was a dressing table and mirror. A doorway in the wall to the right of the bed led to an en-suite bathroom while the little entrance to the suite housed a walk in closet. Blaine noticed his suitcase, as yet unpacked, lying open on the floor at the same time as he became aware of a terrible taste in his mouth. With a sigh, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Half an hour later, he had brushed his teeth, washed his hair in the shower and, with a towel wrapped around his waist, was rummaging in his suitcase for clothes when there was a light tap on the bedroom door.

“Blaine!”Kurt’s soft voice called out. “Are you up and about?”

Blaine stretched across his suitcase and opened the door to find Kurt standing in the passageway with a tray in his hands. The smile on his host’s face collapsed as his eyes landed on Blaine’s naked chest as the man stood up.

“Oh! I’m sorry… um … I didn’t mean to interrupt…” Kurt stammered and cursed inwardly as he felt the blush rise on his cheeks. He thrust the tray at Blaine.

“Tea,” he explained, “I made you some tea.” As Blaine accepted the tray, Kurt backed away and turning around, he called over his shoulder, “When you’re dressed .. um … when you’re ready, come join me in the kitchen and I can whip you up some breakfast.” 

He all but ran down the passage heading for the relative safety of the kitchen. _Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! Get it together!_ Kurt admonished himself whilst pouring a mug of coffee from the Heston Blumenthal coffee maker. When Blaine finally did come into the kitchen, about ten minutes later, Kurt was sitting on a barstool at the island in the middle of kitchen reading the newspaper. Dressed in dark denim jeans and a casual white T-shirt, Blaine was carrying the tray from earlier and Kurt immediately sprang up to take it from him.

“Here let me,” he instructed and he placed the tray on the draining board beside the sink. “You grab a seat and tell me what you’d like for breakfast. You must be starving. I didn’t know if I should wake you up last night for dinner or not.” _You’re babbling, Kurt! Shut up and give the man a chance to reply._ He took a deep breath and turned to face Blaine.

Blaine had seated himself in the chair next to the one Kurt had just vacated. Watching him get comfortable, Kurt thought how small and vulnerable and so utterly bewildered Blaine looked and his heart ached to gather the grieving man into his arms and cradle him.

“I’m just so glad you were able to sleep, Blaine,” he said softly. Blaine looked up at his host, his eyes soft as he replied:

YEAH, ME TOO. I HAVEN’T SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT LIKE THAT SINCE … WELL … FOR A LONG TIME.

“And you probably need loads more nights and days like that too,” countered Kurt. “I’ll whip you up a decent brunch and afterwards I’ll show you around outside and then you can decide what you’d like to do for the rest of day.”

*****

“Tina. It’s a great idea, it really is. But, I think this Saturday is a bit soon. Blaine’s spent the last four days sleeping and we haven’t really had a chance to chat or even catch up so I’m not sure throwing him a ‘Welcome to L.A. summer pool party’ with complete strangers is such a good idea.”

Santana closed the door quietly behind her as Kurt continued his conversation on the phone. She raised an eyebrow at Kurt and mouthed “Blaine sleeping?” to which Kurt nodded while still addressing Tina.

“I know Sweetie, and tell Mike I really appreciate it but let me get back to you once he’s been awake for a full day, okay?”

Santana wandered into the kitchen and set about preparing coffee for herself and Kurt. She was pleased when he eventually ended his call to Tina and enlisted his help to get the “Mother-of-all-coffee-making-monsters to do _my_ bidding.”

“What’s up, Ponyboy?” she asked when he’d finished tapping away at the stainless steel contraption that would eventually pour her a cup of “Good Morning and Welcome to Your Life” goodness.

“That was Tina on the phone,” he replied as he pulled a large round plastic storage container out of the fridge and placed it on the island’s counter. “She and Mike want to come over and meet Blaine and she thought a pool party on Saturday would be a good idea.”

“And you don’t?” Santana asked reaching forward to remove the lid, her eyes clearly excited about the contents, as Kurt sighed.

“Honestly, ’Tana, I don’t know. Blaine’s barely been awake this week. I’m no expert but I reckon his body has decided sleep therapy is the way to deal with his grief, his insomnia and even the jet lag. We’ve actually hardly spoken at all.”

He passed Santana a plate and she happily began to help herself to the lemon cheesecake as Kurt watched her idly, contemplating just how much he wanted to share with her.

“After breakfast on the first day he was here, I showed him around outside and his eyes lit up at the sight of the hammock between the trees out by the pool. And that’s where’s he has spent the last four days. Yesterday, I went out there to wake him for lunch but he was already awake. ‘Tana he was just lying there with tears running down his cheeks.”

 

_“Blaine? Are you hungry?” Kurt called as he stepped off the patio onto the lawn, carefully avoiding tripping over an excited tail-wagging Calypso. He made his way toward the shade where the hammock swung lightly in the soft breeze. As Kurt approached, Blaine shifted into a seated position and brought his hand up to wipe his eyes, but Kurt had already seen. He stopped in front of his friend._

_SORRY. I’M BEING STUPID, Blaine apologised immediately._

_“Rubbish!” scolded Kurt. “You’re not being stupid at all, Blaine. You’re being real and that’s very very necessary.”_

_I JUST … I JUST WANT TO GET THROUGH ONE DAY WITHOUT TEARS._

_“Why?” asked Kurt softly as he pulled Blaine up out of the hammock and held him steady. “Why would you need to make that a goal, Blaine? You’re hurting, badly and the most natural reaction in the world is to cry and allow the hurt to work its way out of your system. I cried for months after my mom died.”_

_YOU WERE EIGHT. Blaine countered. I’M TWENTY-SEVEN! I SHOULD BE BETTER AT THIS!_

_Kurt could tell from Blaine’s urgent rapid signing and the glint in his eyes that Blaine was frustrated and quite possibly angry with himself._

_“And who said that, huh? Who said you had to be better at this than an eight year old boy? There are no rules for the bereaved, Blaine. You get to do what you WANT and NEED to do. And there’s NO timetable. You take as much time as you need and you cry as much as you need to.”_

_I’M JUST SO TIRED. Kurt was struck by how devastated Blaine was as he signed his fatigue._

_“I know, Blaine. I do know. For now, let’s have lunch and then perhaps you may want lie down again.”_

“And that’s almost been the sum total of our conversations thus far, ‘Tana,” Kurt revealed. “He wakes up in the morning; we have breakfast while chatting inanely about the night’s rest. After breakfast, he showers and changes and then goes to lie on the hammock. After lunch he’ll sleep some more. We’ve watched a few movies together after supper but he usually falls asleep half way through anyway. Maybe I should arrange the pool party just to change the monotony of his day? But what if this sleep is just what he actually needs and the pool party disrupts that? Shit! I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Santana looked up at him, a fork full of cheesecake on its way to her mouth when she stopped. “You’re being a good friend, Kurt. That’s what you wanted to be, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Well, I’m not leaving today until after lunch so I get to meet him and perhaps I’ll suggest the pool party. What do you think, Luscious Lips?”

Kurt was about to argue with her when he noticed the determined look in her face and decided this was a good time to back down.

“Yeah, yeah okay. But ‘Tana – I’m begging you – play nice!”

She raised her eyebrows at him and punched his shoulders before persuading him to bring out his laptop do they could do some work.

So engrossed were they in their discussions later that they didn’t hear the patio door slide open and Blaine’s casual flops scuffing on the floor tiles as he walked into the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Kurt and Santana’s heads bent together over the laptop and when Kurt threw back his head in laughter, he saw Blaine standing there, hesitant to intrude. Calypso showed no such inhibitions and she bounded into the kitchen excitedly making a beeline for Kurt.

“Blaine!” he called happily looking at his watch and then reaching down to pat Calypso. “You’re awake!”

HI, YEAH I AM. 

Santana sat up properly in her seat and unashamedly allowed her eyes to travel up and down Blaine’s body.

“Hot damn, Hummel!” she exclaimed.

“Santana!” Kurt hissed between his teeth.

I’M SORRY. AM I INTERUPTING?

“No, not at all,” Kurt was quick to reassure his friend as he jumped off the barstool to reach out for Blaine, an arm around his shoulders, pulling him further into the kitchen. “Blaine, I’d like you to meet my very good friend, Santana. ‘Tana this is …”

“Your English hobbit,” she interrupted holding out her hand to Blaine whose face had broken into a smile. 

YES, APPARENTLY I AM, he signed before accepting her hand in a formal shake.

“Now my reading of sign language is not so good so did you just agree with me or make me a dirty offer, Hobbit?” Santana held tightly onto his hand as Blaine’s eyes widened at first in horror but then relaxed into a smile as he remembered everything Kurt had ever told him of his friend Santana.

“Definitely agreeing with you ‘Tana – not making any offers for your body – dirty or otherwise,” Kurt spoke quickly, grateful for the relaxed smile on Blaine’s face.

“Hmmm,” mused the girl, finally letting go of Blaine’s hand. “Well, that’s a pity isn’t it? Welcome to L.A. Blaine. Although, from what I hear you haven’t really seen much of it yet.”

“Santana, really! You promised you’d try,” Kurt was exasperated with her already and Blaine had only just made it to a chair opposite them.

NO, NO, SHE’S RIGHT YOU KNOW. I HAVEN’T SEEN ANYTHING BESIDES THE TRIP FROM THE AIRPORT.

“And that wasn’t much at all,” assured Kurt. “There’s tons we could do and see but really only when you’re feeling up to it, Blaine. There’s no pressure at all.” The last comment was delivered with a fierce glare to Santana who raised her arms in a helpless shrug.

“So, what’s for lunch, PonyBoy?” she asked innocently.

*****

**From: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**To: NickandJeff@gmail.com**

**Date: 18 June**

**RE: Greetings from L.A.**

**Hey,**

**There’s so much to tell you guys, I almost don’t know where to begin with this email. I guess I first want to thank you for persuading me that this trip was actually a good idea. I know Kurt has been keeping you updated with what’s been going on and I see the texts you send him – I haven’t had a chance to sort out a phone here yet and quite honestly I don’t see the need.**

**Kurt would have told you that I slept the first week away- quite literally. I arrived absolutely exhausted and the jet lag catapulted me over the edge and I had no sooner arrived in Kurt’s guest room when I sank into oblivion for the next 21 hours. From then on it was a case of waking only for meals and that was only because Kurt woke me to eat, otherwise I think I would have just continued. It’s been quite healing though, I must say. Physically, I feel much better and I was pleased to no longer have to resort to the sleeping tablet to get through the night. Perhaps it’s the air here, perhaps it’s the sun or maybe even the water – but the sleep therapy has been good.**

**Dreams are still pretty rough though ( _in a good way, if you know what I mean_ ) and it’s hard to wake from those to the harsh reality of a life that no longer includes Chad. **

**Geez, even typing his name brings a knot to my throat and immediate tears. I do still cry quite a bit but Kurt says that’s okay. Three days after I arrived I was explaining how I felt I really needed to try to get through one day without crying and he told me to hang on just a minute while he collected something from his study.**

**Guys, he brought back and gave to me ( _on loan, mind you_ ) his own ‘License to Cry’. It’s a small laminated card which a friend made for him when his stepbrother, Finn died. According to the small print, the bearer of the card is entitled to cry whenever and wherever he/she so chooses and the nearest person in the vicinity is required by law ( _apparently_ ) to provide hugs as and when necessary. I was so touched by the gesture that I cried all over again that day!**

**He has been great and I am very lucky to count him as a friend – especially now. His house is awesome – guys – absolutely phenomenal! Jeff, you would love the colours and the décor – he is very talented in that respect. I reckon if he hadn’t made such a success of his writing career he could have given some of the top names in interior design a run for their money. His eye for detail is exceptional and every room in his home is perfectly coordinated and yet the overall effect is both comfortable and relaxed. When I first got here I alternated between the guestroom bed and the hammock outside with quick stops in the kitchen so I didn’t get to explore much else but since I’ve been more awake during daylight hours, I have come to appreciate his den in which he has a fully stocked cocktail bar, an extensive library as well as a baby grand! ( _I know, right_?)**

**The garden is gorgeous - large with loads of fruit trees lining the perimeter which runs up against the hill against which the house is built. His house is the one at the end of a cul-de-sac which allows for the privacy he wants and provides the most spectacular views over Los Angeles. We’ve spent the past few evenings watching the sun set in spectacular fashion whilst drinking ‘mocktails’ on his patio. In contrast to Southampton, I’m enjoying the sense of space here very much.**

**Last week Saturday, Kurt hosted a pool party so that I could meet some of his other friends. Santana, whom I had met earlier in the week arrived with a beautiful blonde called Brittany, (“S _he’s not my girlfriend_, _Hobbit”_ ) and then a wonderful Asian couple, Mike and Tina arrived. At first I was very reluctant to meet them all – communication being a difficulty, but everyone was super friendly and Kurt made sure he explained to the others what I was signing. Mike said he and Tina would make a point of learning ASL as soon as possible and Kurt later told me that they’d be fluent within a fortnight. When I queried that sort of speed he said it was “an Chang thing”- whatever that may mean.**

**Mike and I took on Santana and Brittany in the pool for a game of water volleyball while Kurt grilled meat on his outdoor grill and Tina prepared salads and rolls. It was really good fun and at one stage Kurt said, “ _Blaine, I’m so glad you’re having a good time_ ” and do you know, I was surprised because I really was. Although, then I began to feel incredibly guilty. How dare I be enjoying myself in the sun, cavorting with new friends just weeks after my husband’s death? Kurt must have seen something of the crisis on my face because he immediately assured me that it was okay. “ _You’re allowed to have fun, Blaine. You’re allowed to laugh. It doesn’t mean that you don’t miss Chad or that you don’t think of him. It just means that you are living_.” **

**I think he’s right. I will miss Chad for the rest of my life and sometimes my stomach still turns completely when I think of what has been wrenched from my life, but I’m still living. I’m still here and I must focus on getting stronger and healing so that my voice returns and I can return to teaching again.**

**It turns out that Mike and Tina own and run a small dance studio in the suburb just next to Kurt’s and Mike invited me to come make use of their fully equipped gym. “ _It will be a great way for you to get out of the house for a bit each day, Blaine, and a much safer option for you than jogging the unfamiliar streets of L.A._ ” he suggested when he heard Kurt and I talking about the possibility of me going for a run each morning. **

**So this is what I’ve been doing for the past week. Mike very kindly collects me at the bottom of Kurt’s hill each morning around 6.30 and we drive the 15 minutes to his studio. He and I, together with other dance crew members work out for a few hours until the first students arrive. I took three of his classes this week and after the first one I thought I would pass out from exhaustion but by the third one, towards the end of the week, I was starting to keep up. When I’m not in class with him I’ve been boxing again.**

**Kurt, or sometimes Santana collects me from the studio and we either run errands together or head back to Kurt’s place for lunch. I’ve spent most afternoons back in the hammock with some of the books from his incredible collection. Lazy afternoons and a warm sun is a recipe for disaster and more often than not Kurt wakes me in time to have a quick swim before dinner. This week the sleep has been peaceful and restful and not borne from sheer exhaustion.**

“Blaine?”

Kurt’s voice, calling from somewhere inside the house, interrupted Blaine’s train of thought and he stopped typing to look up at the same time as his hand stretched forward to pick up the small silver service bell resting on the table to the right of his laptop. He gave it one or two shakes until the tinkling sound attracted Kurt out onto the patio.

“Oh”, he said coming through the French doors from the living room, “there you are.”

The bell had been Santana’s idea. One afternoon, Kurt had shared with her Blaine’s frustration and subsequent embarrassment at not being able to let Kurt know where he was in the house or garden when Kurt had called. Kurt had apologised profusely to Blaine for being insensitive but Santana had told them they were both idiots and should “ _get the hobbit a bloody bell_.”

HEY YOU greeted Blaine. ARE YOU DONE FOR THE DAY?

“Yeah, I am,” replied Kurt, “in more ways than one, actually.” He stood in front of Blaine facing the pool deck and stretched languidly. Turning back to Blaine, he said, “I think I might have a swim and try to iron out some of these knots and kinks in my shoulder and back muscles.”

Blaine stood up and approached Kurt.

OR I COULD GIVE YOU MY FAMOUS BACK AND NECK MASSAGE. I HAVE MAGIC HANDS. Blaine rubbed his hands together and then blew on them to emphasize his point.

“Oh no, I couldn’t, Blaine…” began Kurt, but he quickly stopped protesting as Blaine’s hands went to work on his shoulders. “Mmmm…. That’s so good. … What do you know? Turns out I can.” 

Kurt bit his lip to prevent the pitiful moans and groans from escaping. What Blaine was doing with his fingers to the aching muscles of Kurt’s neck and shoulders was positively sinful. The man wasn’t lying; his hands were indeed magic and Kurt could feel the tension working itself out of his body. As Blaine was working a particularly stubborn knot below Kurt’s left shoulder blade, Kurt’s phone began to ring and he groaned as if in untold agony.

“No, no you can’t possibly want to speak to me now. Whoever you are, go away.”

Blaine kept his one hand working away at Kurt’s shoulder while picking up the phone with his other to pass forward to Kurt who, when he read DAD INCOMING on the small screen, immediately pulled away from Blaine and swiped his thumb across the pad.

“Dad?” he answered. “How are you?”

“Hey Kiddo,” replied his dad on the other side. “We’re good thanks, son. Why do you sound breathless?”

Kurt blushed as he walked away from Blaine who resumed his place at the table and continued his email to Nick and Jeff.

“Are you ringing to give me good news?” Kurt asked ignoring the previous question because there was no good way to explain the effect Blaine’s hands on his shoulders and back had had on Kurt and his dad chuckled on his end.

“Yeah, Kurt, yeah, it’s good news. Carole and I talked and we’ve decided that we _will_ accept your kind offer of a vacation. We‘ll join you and Blaine in Monterey for two weeks in July.”

**Monterey – Nicky, Jeff … me!! I’m going to Monterey. Kurt has rented two adjoining holiday bungalows at a place called Pebble Beach. Santana pitched a fit but Kurt told her to “ _either go back to hell or suck it up_ ” because he is going to take a two-week summer vacation whether she likes it or not. I think I know him well enough by now to know that his screenplay will be joining us on holiday but I think that’s just how he functions. I’ve been Googling the place for days now and am very excited to visit all the wonderful places – wineries etc. Apparently the surfing there is just out of this world – so no guesses as to where I’ll be.**

**Will catch up with you guys soon again.**

**Much love**

**Blaine**

As Kurt continued his conversation with his father on the phone, Blaine hit the SEND button and closed his laptop and then sighed.

_**Oh Chad, you would have loved this.** _

 


	15. Chapter 15

Kurt looked out across the sand towards the sea as he lifted the mug to his lips and sipped at the warm coffee. The sky was tinged a pale crimson as the sun began its early morning clamber, colouring the water in patches of lighter hues of blues and greens. Movement on a cresting wave caught Kurt’s attention and he tracked the smooth manoeuvres of the surfer who rode the wave in with practised ease displaying an expert skill. A slow smile made its way across Kurt’s face. _I was right, Santana. This is good for him._ Kurt watched as Blaine paddled out beyond the breakers again and waited for the right wave to ride back to shore.

The two men had left L.A. three days earlier in the early hours of the morning to make the five and half hour car journey to Monterey. Blaine had expressed surprise that a location that looked so close to L.A. on the map would take them that long to get there.

IN THE U.K. IF YOU TRAVEL TWO HOURS IN ANY DIRECTION YOU’LL HIT THE SEA, he joked.

They hadn’t chatted much in the car because it was difficult for Kurt to watch Blaine sign while driving; instead they plugged in Kurt’s IPod and turned the music up really loud. Unabashedly, Kurt sang along while Blaine tapped out rhythms on his thigh, silently mouthing the words as well. When they stopped for a coffee break at a roadside diner, Blaine took the opportunity to compliment Kurt.

I NEVER DID GET A CHANCE TO TELL YOU HOW AWESOME YOUR DUET WAS ON THE DAY OF THE MUSICAL. YOUR VOICE IS BEAUTIFUL.

“Thank you, Blaine. Every school play director I ever auditioned for would tell me the same thing. They loved my voice but didn’t know what the hell to do with it on stage.”

Arriving in the quaint little area of Monterey known as Pebble Beach, Kurt was nervous about the choice of holiday home he’d made.

“It’s always a gamble, isn’t it?” he warned Blaine as they drove in. “I mean, when you book on the Internet, you just have to take their word for it, don’t you?”

But he was thrilled with the gorgeous white-washed bungalow with the cute yellow shutters, which was to be their home for the next two weeks. Built right on the coast, each bungalow afforded guests quick and easy access to the private beach. Kurt and Blaine unpacked their belongings into the two-bedroom unit leaving the one on their left for Kurt’s dad and stepmom who would arrive the next day. Blaine helped Kurt unpack the groceries they had brought with them should they wish to make quick meals at home.

“Although I did read many reviews raving about the Italian restaurant and piano-bar down the road,” said Kurt as he stocked the fridge with soda drinks. “We should totally check it out.”

Blaine nodded and then his eyes lit up in pleasure as he spied the surfboards strapped to the wall in the laundry room just off the kitchen. He clapped his hands in sheer delight which got Kurt’s attention.

“Oh, you are so on your own with that, Hobbit!” laughed Kurt. “There’s no way you’re getting me on that unsteady contraption.”

 _And yet, he did._ Kurt thought now as he watched Blaine carving expertly on a new wave. _He pulled that puppy dog pout and you were putty in his hands._

Blaine had indeed managed to coax Kurt into the water with the second surfboard and whilst he had bailed more times than he cared to remember, Kurt had enjoyed the opportunity to have fun with Blaine. The sadness that had hooded the man’s face and eyes since his arrival in June had been replaced with creased lines that wrinkled with silent laughter as he watched Kurt struggle to keep his balance. Kurt was acutely aware of the fact that Blaine was only wearing board shorts and the rippling chest muscles did nothing to help Kurt concentrate on mastering the basic motor skills required for balance on the surfboard. Blaine was quick to offer assistance, catching Kurt in his strong arms before the man could plunge head first into the water and when Kurt grabbed at Blaine’s shoulders and chest to steady himself, he felt the heat radiating off the man’s body as an electric shock.

Eventually, Kurt surrendered, claiming the sun had become too warm, and he had retreated to the shaded patio of their bungalow from where he proceeded to watch Blaine rebuild his confidence on the board. 

_And from where you could admire his body without getting yourself into a hot mess._ It seemed Kurt’s mind was determined to make trouble today.

Later, Kurt was setting the table on the patio when the sound of a car’s horn alerted him to the arrival of his parents. Quickly, he walked around the bungalow to the street side where his father had pulled up beside his own car. 

“Dad!” he called as Burt opened the door for Carole and the two men hugged each other before Carole pulled him into a tight hug as well.

“Oh honey,” she exclaimed, “it is so good to see you again and this place is just too beautiful.”

“Yeah, Kiddo – this is fantastic! Thanks for the invitation,” his dad patted him on the back.

“Come on,” said Kurt grabbing some bags out of the boot, “let me show you your unit. Blaine just got back from his morning surf so he’s in the shower. I’ve got lunch ready so we’ll just dump your things and show you around and then head next door for ‘meet and eat’, okay?”

“How’s he doing, Kurt?” asked Carole kindly, walking beside her stepson up the stairs to the patio which ran lengthways across the front of the bungalow.

“Bringing him here was a good idea, Carole.” Kurt stopped to consider, tilting his head to the side before reflecting further. “He’s like an overgrown puppy really. He loves the beach, the sun and especially the waves. I think he’s starting to relax which is exactly what I want you and dad to do, too.”

“Oh, we will, Kiddo,” confirmed Burt putting his arm around Carole’s shoulders, “that we will.”

Kurt left his parents to freshen up before lunch and made his way back across the footpath to his own unit. He entered the kitchen to find Blaine bending over - his head in the fridge - trying to reach the soda cans which Kurt had placed near the back on the lowest shelf. His heart really did skip a beat and he managed to stop the small gasp from escaping by throwing his hand quickly in front of his mouth. Blaine had showered, obviously, and changed into a casual pair of cargo shorts and a sleeveless vest. The month of Californian sun had bronzed his body a gorgeous honey-brown colour and the gym workouts with Mike had defined muscle groups that Kurt didn’t even know existed on the human body. 

As Blaine stood up and turned around he found Kurt in the doorway with a flustered expression on his face and his hand in front of his mouth. Concerned, he immediately placed the soda can on the counter and rushed toward his friend, signing urgently,

HEY, ARE YOU OKAY?

Blaine placed a hand on each of Kurt’s shoulders and looked earnestly into his face. Kurt closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes again, he removed the hand from his mouth to reply.

“Mmmm, I’m fine, Blaine. Just fine.”

Blaine looked intently into those beautiful blue eyes again, the concern on his face revealing that he didn’t actually believe Kurt and was about to push the issue when Kurt interrupted him.

“My folks have arrived,” he said. “They’re just freshening up so they’ll be here soon. I guess I’m just a bit overwhelmed to see them?” he offered, hoping Blaine would accept the lame excuse.

Blaine nodded and then drew Kurt into a hug before releasing him as their doorbell chimed melodiously.

“Come on,” Kurt said taking Blaine by the hand, “they can’t wait to meet you.” Blaine raised an eyebrow at Kurt and, breathing in deeply, allowed Kurt to lead him out of the kitchen.

Blaine had seen photographs of Burt – there were many of him together with Kurt and various other people in frames all over Kurt’s home in L.A. – so he knew what to expect when he met him. What he hadn’t expected was the sheer presence of the man. 

When Blaine reached out a hand in formal greeting as Kurt introduced them, Burt waved his hand away saying, “Nah, forget that. I’m gonna hug you, son.” And he did just that, wrapping his big burly arms around the much smaller younger man and dragging him into a tight embrace. Keeping Blaine close to him, he spoke quietly into the man’s ear.

“We’re all so damn sorry for your loss and for your hurt, Blaine but we want you to know we’re very pleased that you’re here and we’re here for you – in whatever way we can be. You gotta trust us, okay?

From within the confines of Burt’s grip, Blaine nodded and squeezed his arms tightly on Burt’s back in recognition of the comfort being offered. When Burt finally released him, Blaine stepped back his eyes swimming with tears.

THANK YOU he signed at Burt. I’M SO LUCKY YOUR SON THREW HIS COFFEE ALL OVER ME IN LONDON.

Burt and Carole burst out laughing and Kurt smiled in relief.

“Well, you know me,” he preened. “I have excellent taste. I wouldn’t dream of throwing good coffee at just anybody. Come on, let’s eat.”

The light lunch Kurt had prepared was delicious and thoroughly enjoyed by everyone. Conversation flowed easily and, although Blaine didn’t contribute much, Burt and Carole made sure that he was included in their discussions. Afterwards, as Carole and Blaine did the dishes allowing Burt some time alone with his son, she entertained Blaine with funny stories from her job at the hospital in Lima. Eventually, Burt and Carole left to unpack and rest but before they left, the four holiday-makers agreed to walk down into the little village that evening to find a place to eat dinner.

Blaine stood in the doorway, a pensive expression on his face, as he watched Kurt’s parents disappear into their own bungalow.

“Blaine,” called Kurt from the sofa, “are you okay?”

Blaine turned to Kurt and walked slowly towards the armchair in the living room where he sat down to face Kurt.

YOUR DAD IS AMAZING. Kurt nodded in agreement with a wistful smile on his face.

AND CAROLE IS WONDERFUL, Blaine continued.

“She is,” agreed Kurt. “I’m so glad they found each other. They’re good friends and they bring each other joy and comfort. Carole told me that if it hadn’t been for my dad at her side eight years ago when Finn died, she wouldn’t have made it through that hurt.”

Blaine nodded in understanding. LIKE YOU ARE FOR ME.

Kurt looked up into Blaine’s eyes after he read Blaine’s signed message. He held Blaine’s gaze steadily as he replied, “I _am_ here for you, Blaine.” 

The moment between them was heavy with much unspoken and Kurt was the first to drop his eyes as he asked quietly, “Are you going to nap this afternoon? I need to spend some time with _Blaze_.”

Much later that evening, the four adults strolled down the boardwalk which ran along the coast down to the village where the night’s festivities were just getting started.

“Do you guys feel like Italian?” Kurt asked. “I read online about this lovely Italian restaurant offering live piano music.”

Everyone agreed and, after one or two turns and a quick stop at the roadside flower seller to ask for directions, they arrived at the restaurant door. Before they had a chance to open it, the door was swung wide open and a pot-bellied gentleman with an equally round face and wide smile greeted them loudly in English laced with a strong Italian accent.

“Bon journo and welcome to Mario’s. I am Mario! You come with me, yes?”

Kurt caught Blaine’s eyes which sparkled with delighted pleasure at the caricature of the friendly Italian restaurateur and the two men shared a smile. But when Blaine winked mischievously at Kurt, the latter stumbled into a chair as he negotiated his way behind Mario. Eventually, Mario had them all seated and placed menus on their table.

The bell above the door tinkled as a man popped his head in and called out, “Mario? Where is Luigi?”

Kurt’s table overheard Mario explain that Luigi had broken his fingers that afternoon and was unavailable.

“So, no piano music tonight, then” the man at the door checked in obvious disappointment.

“No, I am so sorry,” Mario’s hands were twisting the ends of the white apron in defeat. “But, I have lovely recorded music for you this evening.”

“Nah, no worries then, Mario. We’ll go somewhere else.” The man withdrew his head and the four adults at Kurt’s table watched together with Mario as a group of about ten people walked away from the restaurant.

Mario’s shoulders slumped but then, he seemed to remember himself because when he turned back to Kurt’s table, a smile was plastered on his face and he was ready to offer assistance with the dinner orders.

“Mario, who is Luigi?” asked Burt.

“Yeah, and what happened to his fingers?” Kurt wanted to know.

Mario’s face fell sadly.

“Luigi – he is my partner. We’re together 25 years this year. Fifteen years we run this restaurant together – me with the people and the orders and Luigi on the piano. I know people they can eat pasta anywhere – but here? Here you eat pasta with Luigi’s piano and it makes the pasta taste better, si? But today, Luigi he get his fingers caught in the deep freeze door and he’s broken the bones in these three fingers.”

Mario held up his hand indicating the broken fingers.

“The doctor say Luigi will not play for a month, but Luigi cries and tells him he’ll be playing in two weeks again. But, until then, the people they won’t come eat pasta at Mario’s because pasta at Mario’s without Luigi’s piano is just pasta. You can get it anywhere. These broken fingers are going to cost me my business.”

“Oh Mario,” consoled Carole, “I’m so sorry to hear that sad news. Is there no one who can stand in for Luigi while he’s recovering?”

Mario laughed bitterly. “I’ve been all afternoon ringing on the phone all the piano-playing people I know. Everyone they are busy with their own things and no one can help us. It is a disaster.”

Mario looked up as the bell over the door tinkled again and a young couple stepped inside the restaurant and tentatively looked around.

“Scusi” Mario excused himself from Hummel’s table and headed over to the couple to lead them to a seat.

“That’s so sad for Mario and Luigi,” said Carole to the men at the table. “I almost wish I could play the piano just to help them out a bit.” She looked across the floor to where more people were entering and standing chatting to Mario who was obviously explaining Luigi’s broken fingers again if the hand gestures were anything to go by. “What are you going to eat, Burt?” she continued.

Kurt stole a furtive glance at Blaine who was, at first, looking intently at Mario but then his eyes swung across the room to the dimly-lit area where the piano stood looking rather forlorn. Kurt held his breath as he watched Blaine’s jaw tense and he worked his mouth from left to right. Suddenly, Blaine pushed his chair back causing Burt and Carole to look up as he stood.

EXCUSE ME he signed briefly catching and holding Kurt’s eyes before he strode away from the table.

“Is Blaine going to the restroom, Kurt?” asked Carole.

“I really hope not,” Kurt replied enigmatically as he watched his friend make his way towards the piano. Carole cocked her head at Kurt in confusion and Burt’s eyebrows came together in a question.

Just as the front door was being opened so the newcomers could leave, the sound of piano scales broke through the chatter in the restaurant. Mario looked up, surprised and his mouth opened in a slow O as Blaine lifted his hands, cracked his knuckles and then settled back down more comfortably on the chair and began to play the sweet simple melody of _Ballade pour Adeline_.

The guests on their way out the door stopped at the sound and turned back to Mario in confusion. Mario swept them back in and placed them at tables all the while snapping his fingers and calling for the wait staff to tend to the guests. It took a while before he could get back to Kurt’s table by which time Blaine was playing a stripped down version of _Here Comes the Sun._ Mario stood in front of Kurt’s table, his head bowed. 

“Your son?” he asked Burt but Burt shook his head and pointed to Kurt.

“This is my son,” he replied and then pointed to Blaine. “That’s my son’s friend, Blaine. He’s English.”

“English huh?” snorted Mario. “That’s no problem. He is very much talented. He save my restaurant tonight. You eat whatever you want on my menu tonight. It is Mario’s gift to you.”

Kurt looked over to the piano to where his friend was losing himself in the notes. Blaine’s eyes were closed and his head was moving slightly as he mouthed the words that accompanied the song.

“No Mario, I think tonight your piano saves Blaine.” 

Quickly, Kurt informed Mario of Chad’s death and Blaine’s subsequent voice loss. Mario clicked his tongue in sympathy and muttered to himself in Italian, nodding emphatically at Kurt’s request not to place Blaine in a potentially difficult or embarrassing position.

Blaine played continually for about an hour before stopping to sit and eat his meal with Kurt and his parents. His face was flushed with the exhilaration of playing and he accepted the compliments from both his table and the surrounding guests with quiet humility. When he had finished his pasta, he resumed his position at the piano and began to play Christina Perri’s _A Thousand Years_. Burt and Carole decided to forgo dessert and, leaving Kurt to wait for Blaine to finish, they opted to walk back to their bungalow to get an early night.

Mario plied Kurt with endless cups of coffee and biscotti as Blaine continued to play well into the night and the guests in Mario’s restaurant continued to applaud and enjoy each new number. Kurt caught Blaine’s eye every now and then and offered his broadest smile in encouragement which Blaine acknowledged with a tilt of his head and a slight blush to his cheeks. Eventually though, Blaine could no longer go on. His fingers were aching from an exertion they were no longer used to and he brought his final number, Billy Joel’s _Piano Man_ , to a close. The restaurant erupted in noisy and appreciative applause. Mario stood at the piano as Blaine bowed ever so slightly in grateful acknowledgement of the praise. 

“Ladies and gentlemen straight from that little island of England …” Blaine quirked an eyebrow at the effusive Italian, “… this evening, Mario’s has brought you the wonderful, the talented, the marvellous… Mr Blaine Anderson!”

The crowd clapped again and Mario pulled Blaine into a hug. When he released the younger man he used the edge of his apron to wipe his eyes. Kurt arrived to join them in time to hear Mario thank Blaine. 

“Mario thanks you, Blaine. Luigi thanks you. My mama in Scilly thanks you. You are a kind and generous man. To give to others while you yourself are hurting is the mark of a noble heart.” 

Blaine looked at Kurt. WILL YOU TRANSLATE FOR ME?

“Mario, Blaine would like me to tell you what he is signing,” Kurt explained to their new friend.

Kurt watched as Blaine signed and then waited for Kurt to speak before continuing to sign. Kurt spoke as if he were Blaine.

“Mario, I haven’t touched a piano since April – the day my husband died. It has been very hard for me because the piano has always brought me comfort. I think I was trying to punish myself by denying my right to enjoy something that is very special and very necessary in my life. I cannot tell you how much it has helped me to be able to play here tonight. Please, would you let me stand in for you until Luigi is fully recovered?”

Mario gave in to his Italian heritage and grabbed Blaine’s face to kiss him on the cheeks.

“Please, dear boy,” he said. “Please come and play Luigi’s piano and heal some more here in Mario’s restaurant.”

Much later, Blaine and Kurt walked home side by side on the boardwalk. A slight breeze was blowing off the sea cooling the night air.

“I’m so proud of you, Blaine,” Kurt’s voice broke the quiet night around them and Blaine stopped to look at him.

I HOPE SO. I WANT YOU TO BE.

Kurt noticed the tears immediately and taking his friend by the shoulders, he looked into Blaine’s wet eyes. 

“And I bet Chad is too, Blaine.”

Blaine sucked in a deep breath of air and moved closer to Kurt to take full advantage of the comforting embrace his friend was offering.

*****

“But there’s still no voice?” Nick’s question, over the phone a few days later, cut through Kurt’s excited description of the piano-playing breakthrough.

“Uh, no,” he confessed quietly down the phone. “No, there’s still no voice. He does mouth the words to some of the songs he plays but there’s no sound at all.”

“Still,” said Jeff, also on the conference line, “it _is_ great news that he’s surfing and playing piano and starting to do all the things he used to do. Things he used to be really good at too. Perhaps soon, he’ll just wake up in the morning and his voice will be back because he’s stopped hurting.”

“So how long is this piano-playing gig?” asked Nick.

“Well, we met Luigi yesterday and his fingers are still pretty badly bruised and swollen and strapped together quite tightly so perhaps Blaine will play for as long as we are down here.”

“When do you head back to L.A.?” asked Jeff.

“We’ll be back around the beginning of August,” Kurt replied.

“And Blaine is due to head back to the UK around the 25th because school starts on the 1st of September,” explained Nick.

“But Nicky,” asked Jeff quietly, “what if he hasn’t regained his voice by then?”

The three men were quiet on the phone as they contemplated the enormity of this eventuality.

“Shit! I don’t know, Jeff,” Nick sounded desperate.

“Guys, let’s not worry about that just yet,” intervened Kurt. “We’ve still got some time. Let’s just be grateful he’s playing the piano again.”

“Yeah, let’s take it one step at a time. Nick,” Jeff’s voice was stronger. “He’s going to be okay, Nicky. I’m sure of it.”

*****

On the last day of their vacation, Carole and Kurt prepared lunch in the kitchen of Kurt’s unit while Burt sat close to the water’s edge on a beach-towel under an umbrella watching Blaine in the surf. Over the past ten days he had come to care very deeply for the young man currently lying flat on the board paddling out beyond the breakers to wait for the next perfect wave. 

Burt admired the way in which Blaine had selflessly pushed aside his grief to help a complete stranger that night in Mario’s restaurant. Since that evening, Burt had watched the creased lines on Blaine’s face ease themselves out and off his face. But he did note the trace of sadness which still lingered in the Englishman’s eyes. 

Burt could understand how his son was drawn to this man. Blaine was handsome, intelligent, talented and even through the use of sign language his quick wit was apparent. He was someone Kurt could appreciate and he seemed to enjoy and respect Kurt’s company. But Burt was worried; he was after all a father and that is his job. Kurt was going to lose Blaine the minute the man regained his voice and returned to the UK. This brief holiday – here in Monterey and even in L.A. was not reality for Blaine – it is but a respite from the cruel and punishing grief that had been slowly drowning him. Burt knew that reality was a kicker and soon Blaine would have to return to it.

He watched now as Blaine rode the wave into shore and expertly brought his board and himself to safety. Blaine picked up the board effortlessly in his strong grip and carried it over to where Burt was sitting. Planting it upright in the sand close by, he gratefully accepted the towel Burt handed him. Once he was semi dry, he threw on a hoodie and accepted Burt’s invitation to sit and chat for a bit.

“I’m going to miss this beach when Carole and I are back in Ohio tomorrow,” Burt sighed and Blaine nodded in agreement.

AT LEAST THERE IS STILL A BEACH FOR ME IN L.A. I CAN’T IMAGINE LIVING AWAY FROM THE OCEAN. Blaine offered.

“Is your home in Southampton close to the beach, then?” asked Burt.

NO, WE ALWAYS HAVE TO TRAVEL A FAIR DISTANCE TO GET ANYWHERE NEAR DECENT WAVES. 

There was quiet for a while before Blaine signed again.

CAN I ASK YOU A PERSONAL QUESTION? YOU DON’T HAVE TO ANSWER IF YOU DON’T WANT.

“You can ask me anything, Blaine,” assured Burt kindly. “If I know the answer, I’ll tell ya. If I don’t know, I’ll try my damndest to find out for you. Fair enough?”

Blaine nodded in agreement.

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE? When Burt cocked his head at Blaine and raised his eyebrows in question, Blaine realised he should qualify his question.

WHEN DID YOU KNOW YOU WERE OVER YOUR WIFE’S DEATH?

Burt breathed in deeply and blew the air out slowly through his mouth thus allowing himself time to formulate an answer that would help this young, grieving husband.

“To be honest, Blaine, I’m still not over it. When it happened, I had to be strong because Kurt was such a little guy at the time and he needed me to bring some sense of normality into our lives. But who was I kidding? Our lives would never be normal again. It’s not normal to lose your spouse so soon.

Blaine nodded and swung his head to the right to look at Burt when the older man continued. “Can I ask _you_ something, Blaine?”

Blaine nodded and signed YES. YES OF COURE YOU CAN.

“Kurt told me your mom left when you were just a baby. Are you over that?”

Blaine looked out towards the ocean for a while before turning to Burt to reply.

I NEVER EVER KNEW HER SO I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO MISS SO I GUESS I DIDN’T. DOES THAT MAKE SENSE?

When Burt nodded, Blaine continued.

EVEN WHEN MY DAD UPPED AND MOVED TO BRAZIL, I DIDN’T MISS HIM NOR HIS HOMOPHOBIC TAUNTS AND SLURS. SO I THINK I AM OVER THE LOSS OF MY PARENTS SO TO SPEAK.

Blaine paused, took a deep breath, exhaled and then continued to sign.

BUT NOW, NOW … I FEEL SO … I WAS NOT PREPARED .. AM STILL NOT PREPARED AND SO I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FEEL.

Burt nodded in understanding. “I know for sure none of us are over Finn’s death even eight years later but, you know, somehow we learn to go one. I know that I miss Elizabeth every day, but loving Carole and having her in my life as we journey on makes it easier to get up in the morning. There’s purpose in life again.”

Blaine was quiet as he absorbed this information.

“Blaine,” Burt’s voice was quiet and gentle. “Did you tell your father that your husband died?”

Tears immediately welled up in Blaine’s eyes. 

S-E-B CALLED HIM IN R-I-O TO LET HIM KNOW AND HIS RESPONSE WAS … HIS RESPONSE WAS … “WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS?”

Blaine choked on the sob stuck in his throat and Burt gathered the crying boy into his arms where he held him. Silently, Burt cursed a man in Brazil he didn’t even know for his heartless and callous disregard of his only son’s needs.

“It’s okay, son. You let it all out. There’s no one to see you here. You just let all that hurt out and I’ll hold you so you’re not alone.” Burt hummed softly as Blaine shoulders shook with release.

 

Kurt set the tray down on the table outside and stood up to scan the water for Blaine. Instead his eyes fell on his father’s seated figure cuddling the surfer to his side as he rocked the younger man soothingly. As Kurt took in the scene trying to understand what was going on, Carole stepped onto the patio behind him with jug full of freshly squeezed orange juice. Setting the jug down on the table, she too looked up to see what held Kurt’s gaze so entranced.

“Hmm,” she murmured quietly, “I wondered how long it would take before his paternal instincts kicked in.”

“What do you mean, Carole?” Kurt asked, perplexed.

“Kurt, your father is like the ‘Peter Pan of Dads’ – he can sense lost boys a mile away and has an instinctive need to reach out to them,” Carole explained.

Kurt nodded in agreement as he thought of high school friends, both his and Finn’s, who had been taken in by Burt and Carole and made to feel part of a real family when their own was falling apart.

“I guess I hadn’t thought in terms of Blaine needing a dad really. He seems to have coped most of his adult life without a father figure,” Kurt observed.

“Oh Kurt, honey, every man needs a dad, no matter what his age,” assured Carole.

Kurt agreed and reached out to hug Carole. “I’m so glad you and dad came to join us this holiday. I’ve so enjoyed spending time with the two of you.”

“And we enjoyed being with you and Blaine,” Carole responded hugging her stepson tightly. When they released each other they noticed Burt and Blaine gathering their things from the beach with the obvious intention to return to the bungalow.

“Kurt,” Carole asked quietly, “have you given more thought to what we spoke about yesterday?”

Kurt nodded emphatically. “Yes, Carole, I have. As soon as we get home tomorrow, I’m going to suggest hypnotherapy.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**** **From: NickandJeff@gmail.co**

**To: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**Date: 4 August**

**RE: Hello and all that …**

**Blainers!**

**It was so good to read your last email. We thoroughly enjoyed your description of the beautiful Monterey area and are currently enjoying intensive retail therapy as we try to deal with our awful jealousy! Kurt’s dad and stepmom sound amazing and we’re glad you had a good time with them.**

**Life back home is pretty mundane. We did get down to Cornwall as we’d planned and had a good time there – missed you enormously though and the regular summer crowd at the _Spotted Dog_ wanted us to send you their best regards. I swear nothing’s changed in that pub since we started going there in our senior year except perhaps that we’re all getting a little greyer, I suppose.**

**Jeff’s been rather busy lately with several paintings he’s putting together for the end of summer show which should run at the gallery over the last week in August and the first week in September. I saw Mrs Phillips on the High Street the other day and she asked after you. She had heard that you’d “upped and left for America” and wondered if you would be returning for the new academic year. I explained that we were waiting for a miracle regarding your voice.**

**Talking of which – I am so proud of you for agreeing to see this hypnotherapist friend of Kurt’s. I mean, what if he is able to unlock your voice, Blaine? Then you can come home and begin to rebuild your life again. We miss you so much, mate.**

**Sorry, this is not a long mail – just wanted it to get to you in time to tell you that we’ll be thinking of you tomorrow and wishing you all the luck in the world. Jeffie says just don’t let him mess with your mind. He’s worried that in the future whenever someone says the word “chicken” you might take off all your clothes and run around the garden, clucking. (I think the lad watches too much late night TV on strange channels!)**

**We love you Blainers and if anyone can do this – it’s you!!**

**Nick (and Jeff!)**

Blaine closed the laptop with sigh. He was extremely nervous about meeting Kurt’s friend, Artie Abrams, who apparently was confined to a wheelchair when an accident in his youth robbed him of the use of his legs. Kurt had explained to Blaine that they had been at high school together and that Artie had developed a passion for alternative treatments which resulted in his qualifications in hypnotherapy. Together, they had read the documented success stories posted on Artie’s professional website and despite his concerns, Blaine was intrigued. 

Since their return from Monterey a few days earlier, Blaine had become acutely aware that his time in America was fading fast and hope that his voice would return as his emotions healed was dwindling. So he was pinning quite a bit of faith in Artie and his hypnosis. He simply had to get his voice back so he could return to his job and his life in Southampton. As his thoughts returned to his hometown he couldn’t help the catch in his throat as he thought of a home that he no longer shared with Chad, of a life that was now bereft of his best friend, lover and husband.

“Hey you,” Kurt’s soft voice interrupted his sad thoughts. “Are you ready to go? The car’s here.”

Blaine looked up and Kurt noticed his friend’s watery eyes but chose not to draw attention to Blaine’s fragile state.

YES. YES I’M READY. AS READY AS I’LL EVER BE. Blaine replied and he got up from the table to follow Kurt out the door to the waiting car.

 

Artie Abrams practised from his home in downtown Beverley Hills and it took Kurt’s driver just forty minutes to negotiate the traffic and deliver the two men outside the door a mere five minutes before their appointment.

“Thanks Andrew,” Kurt called to the driver as they got out on the pavement and turned to walk up the stairs which led to a bright red double door. “I’ll text you when we’re ready to leave.”

Blaine stood a little to the side and allowed Kurt to ring the doorbell which was situated on the wall to the left of the doors. Almost immediately the door clicked open automatically and Kurt pushed it further until both he and Blaine could enter.

“Hi, Hello, I’m Kitty and you must be Kurt and Blaine,” a soft-spoken young girl in her very early twenties greeted them in the hallway. Her long blonde hair was swept up into a high ponytail and tied with a very bright red ribbon.

Kurt nodded in agreement. “I’m Kurt,” he said, “and this is Blaine.”

Kitty smiled and nodded. “Artie said you should go straight through as soon as you got here. His office is just down this hall and the first door on the left. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” replied Kurt grabbing Blaine’s hand to lead him in the direction she had gestured. Blaine smiled hesitantly at her as they walked past the young girl and she grinned back at him.

The wide wooden door had a sign declaring this to be the office of Artie Abrams and as he knocked, Kurt called out quietly, “Artie?”

“Yo!” came the cheerful reply from inside and Kurt pushed the door wider to reveal a fabulous room. Floor to ceiling bookshelves were cluttered with books of all shapes and sizes. A large desk covered with endless piles of paper, stood in the centre of the room commanding attention. Two upholstered armchairs were arranged politely in front of the desk behind which sat Artie in his wheelchair. Off to the side, a leather ottoman had been strategically placed beside the large shuttered window.

“Come in! Come in!” he gestured and wheeled his way forward, his hand coming out to greet his guests.

“Kurt! It’s been too long, man. How’ve you been?” 

Blaine watched as the two old friends greeted each other with hugs and slaps on the back.

“I know, Artie, it has been too long. I’m sorry. I’ve just been so caught up in the last book.”

“No apologies needed, Kurt. I understand how it is.” Artie assured his friend and then allowed his eyes to fall onto Blaine standing quietly still halfway in the doorway. “And you must be Blaine? Please, come in and have a seat.”

Hesitantly, the two men moved further into the room. Kurt wasn’t sure where exactly Artie wanted them. Blaine had begged Kurt to not leave him alone during the session and Artie had agreed on condition that Kurt remain very quiet and out of focus.

“Here Blaine,” gestured Artie. “You come make yourself comfortable on this ottoman of mine and Kurt, you seat yourself down on one of those armchairs over there.”

Blaine regarded the ottoman with trepidation, his eyes wide with anxiety. Kurt squeezed his arm and whispered in his ear, “You can do this. I know you can.”

“Feel free to kick your shoes off if it will make you more comfortable,” suggested Artie. “Now Kurt – we agreed that you could be present but I must have your word that no matter what you hear coming from Blaine, you absolutely cannot react at all. Do you understand me?”

“I do Artie, I do. Blaine wants me here,” he said, to which Blaine nodded vigorously. “I’ll be very quiet over here. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Artie then turned his attention to Blaine who had positioned himself gingerly on the ottoman. He wheeled over to the man and asked if he was comfortable. Blaine nodded.

Artie’s voice adopted a solemn timbre as he spoke. “Blaine, I want you to close your eyes and listen carefully to my voice.” 

Blaine’s eyes caught Kurt’s one last time and Kurt smiled encouragingly. Then, Blaine nodded at Artie and closed his eyes.

“Blaine, you can feel your body relaxing as you hear my voice. Each muscle group will relax as I begin to count backwards from ten … nine … eight …”

Kurt was amazed to watch as Blaine’s body visibly loosened on the ottoman as his mind obeyed Artie’s instruction to relax. 

“…three … two … one…” continued Artie. “Blaine your body is completely relaxed now and in front of you is a door. I want you to walk towards that door and open it. Remember, you are completely safe here. You’re opening that door now, Blaine and you see stairs going down. Walk down those stairs for me, Blaine. Remember there’s nothing to be frightened of here. You are perfectly safe. Just walk down those stairs until I tell you stop. That’s right, one at a time down those stairs. Alright Blaine, could you stop please and tell me where you are?” 

Artie stopped talking and looked at Blaine expectantly; Kurt held his breath.

“Royal Courts of Justice,” replied Blaine his voice tight and hoarse from months of disuse and Kurt couldn’t help the gasp that escaped upon hearing Blaine’s voice again. Artie glared at him and Kurt raised his hand in apology.

“What are you doing at the Royal Courts of Justice, Blaine?” Artie asked in the same careful tone.

“Wedding,” replied Blaine with a smile. “Chad and I are getting married.

_“When you sent me the text to say you and Chad got engaged, Blaine, I didn’t think you guys were going to tie the knot so soon. You literally just got back from Paris two weeks ago.” Nick was incredulous._

_“Well, I think it’s very romantic, Nicky,” Jeff interrupted coming from behind to hug his husband._

_“What should we wait for, Nick? Chad and I live together anyway. Neither of us wants a huge fancy ceremony. We just want to make our vows quietly in front of our friends and then party with said friends so that we can get on with the happily-ever-after part of being each other’s husbands,” replied Blaine._

_The door to the tiny antechamber opened and Sebastian stuck his head in the gap._

_“You guys ready?” he asked. “Let’s do this thing. Chad’s driving me nuts out here.”_

_“Come on, Blainers,” urged Jeff, “Let’s go get you married to the love of your life.” Nick and Jeff each took one of Blaine’s arms and led him out into the passage where Chad was waiting._

“You’re doing so well, Blaine,” Artie’s voice cut through Blaine’s recollection. “I want you to turn around and climb up a few stairs now and tell me where you are, please.”

“In the car,” was Blaine’s response.

“And who’s in the car with you Blaine?” asked Artie.

“Chad. Chad’s driving.”

_“What are you thinking, Baby?” Chad’s question caught Blaine unawares. “You’ve been weirdly emotional all evening. Talk to me, Blaine – what’s going on?”_

_Blaine turned in the passenger seat to face his husband. “I guess it’s the news about Nick and Jeff’s baby.”_

_“The baby?” repeated Chad. “What about their baby, Blaine?”_

_“I guess, well I guess, I’m just wondering about us, Chad. I mean I know we talked about it when we were dating and we both agreed that children would definitely be a part of our future. But we didn’t ever really peg it down did we? I mean, I guess I’m wondering, when in our future, Chad?”_

_“Baby, you know I want to have children with you but Blaine, it’s not something we can even think of right now. Sebastian and I have got to – “_

_“-get your firm up and running,” Blaine finished the well-worn line for him. “I know Chad and I get that, I really do but please don’t blame me for wishing that it was now already.”_

_“I don’t blame you, Honey, but I wish you’d be a little more supportive of the work Seb and I are putting into the firm. It’s all so that you and I can have the future we’ve always dreamed of.” Blaine picked up immediately on the exasperation in Chad’s voice._

_“Chad,” Blaine spoke softly and rested his hand on his husband’s thigh, “I told you earlier this evening – you are my future – I’m already living it. I wish you would too.”_

_“I know what,” Chad’s voice was suddenly brighter. “Let’s grab a weekend away together as soon as your musical is done – I’ll take you up to the Cotswolds for a romantic weekend. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”_

_“Yeah, yeah Chad – that would be great.”_

Kurt was listening avidly. It was more than obvious that this particular memory matched with the text messages he had received from Blaine on that Friday night a week before the musical. It was apparent that Blaine was more than ready to start a family but Chad had been reluctant. Kurt remembered the desperate tone of Blaine’s messages that night.

“Blaine, you’re doing so well and I’m going to ask you to climb just one more stair for me, please.” Artie’s next instruction cut through Kurt’s memories and he sat straighter as he realised they were precariously close to the day Chad died. Kurt hoped Blaine was going to be okay through this last traumatic stretch with Artie. 

“Tell me where you are, Blaine”

“At home.”

“What are you doing, Blaine?”

“Drinking whiskey; reading a text message from Kurt.” Artie’s head turned towards Kurt who simply raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘ _What about it_?’ ”

_Blaine looked up from his phone as the front door opened and Chad walked in._

_“Baby!” he exclaimed in surprise. “I thought you’d be out celebrating with Nick and Jeff.”_

_When Blaine simply glared at him in response, Chad tried again. “Come here, Superstar; let me give you a congratulatory kiss.”_

_Blaine did not move from his position on the sofa; instead he placed his whiskey glass on the coffee table in front of him and through gritted teeth asked tightly, “It’s after two; where the hell have you been, Chad?”_

_Chad moved swiftly to sit beside his husband. “Honey, I thought Jeff explained. I rang him to arrange the flowers and asked him to explain to you. Please tell me that he did explain to you?”_

_“Oh, he explained alright, Chad. On what was, quite possibly, the greatest night of my teaching career, my friend explained to me that my husband could not be there. Could not be bothered to show up at some measly little middle-school concert because he is way-too-important an attorney for that. No, he and his hot shot partner had to excuse themselves from that little joke and go off to make trillions of pounds for some client because that’s what‘s important, Blaine. Not your silly little concert for ten year-olds singing about some stupid plant in some stupid school cafeteria, Blaine! No, what is important is multi-million pound business deals, Blaine – that’s what’s important. Not standing beside your husband to give him the support he needs.”_

_Blaine stopped to take a breath and, as Blaine’s phone beeped with another incoming message, Chad took the opportunity of the fraction of silence to attack._

_“Geez, Blaine how much have you had to drink?”_

_“Not enough,” growled Blaine. “It still hurts and I’m still angry. You weren’t there for me, Chad and I really needed you. But your bloody business always takes precedence. Attorney trumps teacher every time!”_

_“Blaine, why must you make everything into a competition? Stop trying to prove something!”_

_“Where were you though, Chad? What could have possibly been more important than me tonight?” Blaine was determined to wrestle an answer from his husband._

_“No way! You don’t get to throw that at me because, you know what, Blaine? I can throw it back just as easily. I asked you to accompany me to that lawyer’s fraternal weekend in Edinburgh and you weren’t there for me either, Blaine! I needed you there and you said you couldn’t miss that Literature Festival thing in London. You wouldn’t give up that damn trip for anything. And then, … and then, I had to find out from Wes that you didn’t even spend those two nights with him but you found somewhere else to sleep!”_

_“Don’t turn this around, Chad … I told you-” Blaine began, but was cut off by his exceedingly angry husband._

_“And stop fiddling with your phone Blaine – leave those damn messages for once and answer me this: Where were you, Blaine? Who did you sleep with, huh?”_

_Blaine gasped in surprise and hurt at the unfair accusation. “Chad, I told you. I hurt my ankle and ended up …”_

_Blaine was startled when, as the phone beeped notification of yet another incoming message, Chad suddenly grabbed the phone out of Blaine’s hand and hurled it across the room where it hit the wall and fell to the floor in several pieces._

_“Who is he, Blaine? Who are you cheating with?” Chad was yelling furiously now._

_“Chad, I’m not cheating! Can you please just listen to …” Blaine begged but Chad interrupted him._

_“You know what, I’m done. I can’t bear to look at you right now.” He got up from the sofa, grabbed his wallet and keys and headed out, slamming the front door behind him._

_Blaine slid off the sofa onto the floor in tears. “Chad, I love you. I didn’t cheat on you, I swear.”_

Kurt’s eyes were wide with shock as Blaine continued to cry out from his position on the ottoman. “Chad! I love you. Come back! I didn’t cheat on you, I swear.”

“Artie, please-” Kurt broke the rules and earned himself a fierce glare from his friend who then turned back to Blaine who was fidgeting restlessly on the ottoman, tears running down his face.

“Blaine,” Artie raised his voice slightly to be heard above Blaine’s whimpers. “When I count to three you will open your eyes and wake up. You will remember all that had happened here today. Okay? One, two, three.”

Blaine blinked his eyes open through his tears and stared long and hard at Artie who handed him a packet of tissues. Wordlessly, Blaine swung his legs off the ottoman and sat up straight. He wiped his eyes, blew his nose and then looked back at Artie in absolute bewilderment.

The man in the wheelchair shrugged his shoulders. “I’m guessing you didn’t remember the fight you had with your husband.”

Blaine shook his head, a fresh set of tears running down his cheeks. He would not allow himself to look at Kurt although he was keenly aware of the other man’s presence in the room.

“I think, Blaine, your mind couldn’t deal with the devastating trauma of Chad’s death coming so soon after an unresolved fight. It would seem that in a weird way you’re psychologically punishing yourself by not allowing yourself to speak. It also explains your aversion to using phones since his passing. I cannot say when or if your voice will return, I’m afraid.” Artie reached out to squeeze Blaine’s arm. “Perhaps when you’ve learned to forgive yourself, huh?”

Blaine nodded his eyes downcast now. THANK YOU he signed and stood up. IF I MAY JUST USE YOUR BATHROOM BEFORE WE GO?

When Kurt translated his request, Artie gave quick directions and he and Kurt watched Blaine leave the room.

“Wow, Hummel, have you got some ‘splaining to do, yo,” Artie wheeled around to face Kurt. “I take it _you_ were the mystery man he spent the weekend with? The one blowing up his phone with text messages that night?”

“Artie, don’t, please? I feel sick. I had no idea,” Kurt’s anguished voice was riddled with guilt.

“No, you’re right there. It seems even your Blaine had no idea. Shit, man, what are you guys going to do?”

“I have no idea, Artie. No idea at all.”

The two men were silent in the car on the way home, each lost in their own turmoil of thoughts as they processed the information uncovered in Artie’s study. When Kurt had asked if he wanted to listen to some music, Blaine shook his head and they retreated into uncomfortable silence. Kurt didn’t miss the fact that Blaine wouldn’t meet his eyes and when they eventually reached Kurt’s house, Blaine was out of the car immediately, leaving Kurt alone to thank Andrew.

Inside the house, Kurt heard the door to Blaine’s room shut determinedly and, as he made his way wearily to his own bedroom, Kurt could hear ragged sobs coming from behind the door. He paused on the landing and put his hand out to knock but then stopped. He was partly to blame for what had happened that night in Southampton and his dreadful guilt was threatening to overwhelm him. With tears streaming down his own cheeks, he continued to his room.

Inside his room, Blaine lay face-down on the bed. Tears streaked his face and his breath came in gasps as he swallowed his sobs. _I didn’t cheat on you, Chad I swear._

_But I wanted to._


	17. Chapter 17

“Jeff, I told Nick the same thing I’m telling you: You are going to have to get that information from Blaine himself. It’s really not _my_ story to tell. I was only in the room as a support to Blaine because he couldn’t bear to be alone but, honestly, I think he now wishes that I hadn’t been there. It is very painful Jeff, but it’s not for me to tell.”

“I understand, Kurt, at least I think I do but was your friend able to unlock his voice for him?” Jeff was nothing if not persistent.

“Well, in some respects yes; yes he was because Blaine used his voice throughout the session to recall the memories but he hasn’t spoken again since.” Kurt hated to disappoint Jeff but he also wasn’t willing to admit to Jeff that Blaine was now hardly communicating with him at all. 

Since their return from Artie yesterday, Blaine hadn’t left his bedroom and Kurt didn’t know how to reach him. His tentative knocks on the door last night inviting Blaine to dinner were met with silence and this morning Blaine couldn’t meet his eyes as they carefully moved around each other preparing a very basic breakfast of cereal and milk which they ate in silence. Blaine didn’t even respond to Calypso’s desperate plea for attention, forgoing their usual morning play for the solitude of his room instead.

“Oh Kurt, it’s all so depressing,” Jeff continued. “My heart breaks for my friend.”

“I know, Jeff,” agreed Kurt, “I really do. I had so hoped that the hypnosis would be the breakthrough that we needed it to be; instead it’s just opened a whole new wound – one Blaine had buried very deep inside his mind apparently. Perhaps he just needs time to work through this new situation.”

The chiming of the doorbell alerted Kurt to Mike’s arrival and he quickly bade farewell to Jeff promising to email more news later if he could.

“Hey Kurt!” greeted Mike with his usual cheerfulness. “How’s the English patient today?” Mike chuckled at his own joke but Kurt winced at the irony.

“Not good, Mike. Thanks so much for coming over. I feel as though we’ve had a serious relapse. All the good of the two-week holiday in Monterey seems to have been undone by yesterday’s visit except that it wasn’t. Does that make any sense at all?”

“Nope – none at all!” grinned Mike. “But you know I don’t have to understand it at all, I’m just happy to be here to help in whatever way I can.” Mike gestured with his thumb towards the guest room. “Is he in his room?”

“Yeah, yeah he is,” Kurt replied. “Feel free to go on in.”

Mike nodded and turned away to head down Kurt’s passage but he turned back when Kurt called out to him.

“You’re a good friend Mike – thank you.”

Mike smiled his pleasure and rapped assertively on the door. There was no answer and Blaine didn’t open the door so Mike called out to him.

“Blaine! It’s me Mike. Can I come in? I kinda gotta talk to you.”

Kurt watched as the door to the guest room slowly opened and Blaine stood in the door way taking in the arrival of Mike Chang. It was hard for Kurt not to feel the sting of betrayal as Blaine stood back to allow the tall dancer into his room and shut the door again. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath, opened the patio door to let Calypso out into the sunshine of the garden and then slowly made his way to the study. _Focus Kurt! You’ve got a few days left before the meetings and you’ve got to be in the right headspace to sell this project._

 

It was about two hours later when Mike tapped quietly on the study door. “Kurt!” he called out.

“Yeah,” Kurt’s reply was weary as Mike came into the room and stood in front of Kurt’s desk.

“So, I’m gonna take Blaine out for some lunch and then we’re gonna go do some touristy things. Is that okay with you? I should have him back by this evening.”

“Yeah fine, absolutely,” Kurt worked really hard to force a smile onto his face as he stood up and walked with Mike towards the door. “That sounds great.”

Kurt and Mike walked out of the study meeting Blaine in the passage. Their friend had changed from sweatpants into dark denim jeans and a red golf shirt and, despite Blaine’s red swollen eyes, Kurt was still blown away by the handsome face under the mop of curly hair. His breath stuck in his throat as Blaine caught his eyes but then very quickly looked away again. He simply nodded when Kurt said “Have a great time!” and followed Mike to the car without looking back.

Kurt waited until the car had disappeared down the hill before he sat down on the top stair leading to his front door and let his head fall into his lap. Finally, he gave in to the pain and allowed heart-wrenching sobs to wreck his body.

“What the hell has happened, Ponyboy?” Santana’s voice cut through the sobs and Kurt was dimly aware of Santana suddenly sitting beside him gathering him into her comforting arms.

Kurt sniffed noisily. “What are you doing here, Santana?” he asked in an effort to compose himself in front of his friend.

“Tina rang me,” she told him. “She said that Mike was headed to your place to try to help with Blaine’s total shut down and then he texted her to say he was taking Blaine out but perhaps you shouldn’t be left alone. So, here I am.” She wiped the tears from Kurt’s eyes. “What in the name of all that is unholy happened here today?”

“Me,” replied Kurt. “I happened. It’s my fault, Santana. I killed Chad. He would still be alive today if it wasn’t for me.”

“Okay, wait. Hold the phone, Luscious Lips.” Santana was incredulous. “How on earth did you manage to decide that?” she asked. “Bearing in mind that you had never met the man before and that he lived in another continent, how exactly did _you_ manage to kill him in a car accident?”

Kurt’s sobs ceased and wiping his eyes, he broke away from Santana’s embrace to turn to face her where she sat beside him on the top stair.

“Santana,” Kurt began, “Chad and Blaine fought about _me_ that night … or early morning … after Blaine’s musical. Blaine was angry with him that he hadn’t shown up at the musical and accused Chad of not putting him first. Their fight escalated until eventually Chad accused Blaine of the same thing and _then_ he accused Blaine of cheating on him … with _me_ .. that weekend in London.”

“Oh, but surely Blaine was able to explain the truth of that weekend.”

“But that’s just the thing ‘Tana. While he was trying to explain to Chad that nothing happened, I was blowing up his phone with text messages and eventually Chad grabbed the phone and threw it against the wall where it broke. Then he told Blaine he couldn’t bear to even look at him and he left. He drove away in anger ‘Tana and then he … and then he … Oh dear god, he died, Santana and it’s _my_ fault!” Kurt was sobbing uncontrollably again and Santana pulled her friend back into her arms. He hiccupped. “I..if I hadn’t …. been texting … he … he … wouldn’t have le..left. Chad would be al..alive today if..if it wasn’t for me and… and now Bl..Blaine hates me – he ca..can hardly st..stand to look at me.”

 

Hours later, Kurt was all cried out and, after nibbling his way through an early supper with Santana, had gone to bed, exhausted. Santana was loading the dishwasher when she heard the front door open. Wiping her hands on the dishtowel, she stepped out into the hallway to find Blaine taking his shoes off. He looked up at her in surprise and was about to smile in greeting when her quiet words cut through him like a knife.

“You can put your shoes right back on, Hobbit, because you and Aunty Snix here are going to have a little chat outside,” and she ushered him back out the front door, pushing him into a seated position on the stairs in exactly the same place she had found Kurt earlier. Blaine’s expression was bewildered and he attempted to sign his concern.

“Nah, forget it, Hobbit; I didn’t learn ASL so it doesn’t help. And in any case I don’t need you to talk at all. I need you to listen and to listen very carefully.” 

Blaine nodded but his expression revealed his disquiet and concern.

“Thanks to you, Hobbit – my boy’s an absolute mess right now. I got here this afternoon to find him hysterical because he thinks – my boy has gotten it into his head - that _he_ killed your husband.” She watched as Blaine’s eye went wide with surprise. “Yes, that’s right. He has decided that it’s somehow his fault that you are now a widower and now that you know the truth, you hate him.” 

Blaine was shaking his head and mouthing the word “No” at Santana.

“Yes, Blaine; you know and I know that it’s not true. But can you deny Kurt’s logic? If he hadn’t been texting you so much that night, Chad would not have wrenched your phone from your grasp and thrown it across the room. He might not have left. He might have stayed and listened to your explanations. Hell, you two might even have had great make up sex and your husband would still be alive.”

Blaine’s hands were gripping the hair on either side as he shook his head from side to side in anguish over Santana’s words.

She knelt down in front of Blaine and took one of his hands in each of hers. “Look at me, Blaine.”

His eyes snapped open at her command and she stared at him intently. 

“I’m only going to tell you this once and so help me Blaine Anderson, you better get this right or I _**will**_ go all Lima Heights on your cute but definitely sorry ass. My boy has a meeting the day after tomorrow during which he gets an opportunity to pitch the idea of _Blaze_ as a movie in front of one of the most important men in Hollywood. You have messed his head so badly today that you are going to spend all of tomorrow making it up to him.”

Blaine nodded mutely, his eyes swimming with tears.

“I don’t care what you have to do, or sign for that matter, to get my boy to believe that he is in NO way responsible for Chad’s death.”

Again Blaine nodded, desperate for Santana to believe his intentions to make this right. The girl looked at him fiercely and he tried hard not to cower but then he noticed the hard glint from her eyes was replaced with a soft look as she continued to stare into his eyes. He was surprised when she cupped his chin in her hands and softly whispered, “And neither are you, Blaine. You are not responsible for Chad’s death any more than Kurt is. Believe that and you’ll heal.”

Blaine blinked in surprise, completely unsure of himself at that moment.

“Now, go inside and get some sleep,” Santana commanded. “You’ve got a hell of a day ahead of you tomorrow. And for the love of Gaga – Hobbit – get it right!”

*****

Kurt woke to the sound of Calypso barking inside the house. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and was startled to see on his wrist watch that it was after eight already. Quickly he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower after which he dressed in a pair of tight, but comfortable, jeans and a casual button up shirt. Slipping on his loafers, he opened the door of his bedroom to be met by the smell of bacon and toast wafting down the passage to greet him. Intrigued, he walked quietly into the kitchen to find Blaine, showered, shaved, dressed in blue faded jeans and a white T-shirt that hugged his upper body perfectly, expertly flipping pancakes in a frying pan.

“Good morning,” greeted Kurt quietly and somewhat shyly from the doorway. Blaine turned at the sound of Kurt’s voice and his eyes lit up when they landed on Kurt’s. He replaced the frying pan on the stove to free his hands.

GOOD MORNING. I HOPE YOU’RE HUNGRY? I MADE PANCAKES.

“I can see that,” replied Kurt. “Which ones?” he asked stepping into the kitchen, closer to the island.

BLUEBERRY, was the somewhat smug response from Blaine.

“Mmm… my all-time favourite,” Kurt murmured.

I KNOW. COME ON SIT DOWN AND I WILL PUT SOME ON A PLATE FOR YOU.

Kurt accepted the chair at the island which Blaine held out for him and poured two glasses of orange juice while Blaine dished up several pancakes onto a plate which he placed in front of Kurt.

THERE YOU ARE, he announced, ENJOY.

“Thank you, but you didn’t have to do all this, Blaine,” scolded Kurt lightly.

Blaine took hold of Kurt’s hand and willed the man to look at him. Then taking his hand away he continued.

I DO – IN FACT - IT IS THE VERY LEAST I CAN DO.

Kurt looked away and Blaine could see his friend was struggling to keep his emotions in check so he reached out for Kurt’s downcast chin and raised it up so Kurt could look into his eyes again.

“Blaine-” Kurt started to protest.

NO WAIT. PLEASE HEAR ME OUT.

“Blaine I want to tell you-”

NO, LET ME GO FIRST, OKAY?

“Okay,” Kurt conceded.

I AM SO DESPERATELY SORRY FOR DRAGGING YOU INTO THE EMOTIONAL MESS THAT IS MY LIFE AT THE MOMENT.

“No, Blaine you don’t have to apologise at all I’m here for you. In whatever way you need. I just … I just… I’m so-” Kurt’s eyes filled again.

NO, UNDERSTAND ME WHEN I SAY I AM MORE THAN GRATEFUL THAT YOU ARE IN MY LIFE BUT I’M JUST SORRY THAT YOU ARE BEING HURT BY MY MESS.

“No, that’s not …” Kurt tried to fob it off but he couldn’t. The truth was he was being hurt by Blaine’s mess but the fact remained that there wouldn’t even be a mess if it hadn’t been for Kurt.

LISTEN CAREFULLY TO ME. K-U-R-T, YOU ARE NOT RESONSIBLE FOR C-H-A-D-’S DEATH.

Kurt’s breath hitched and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

I DON’T BLAME YOU IN ANY WAY AND I DON’T WANT YOU TO BLAME YOUSELF, EVER.

“But you,” Kurt interrupted, “you were so angry with me when we returned from Artie’s. I thought-”

NO, YOU THOUGHT WRONG. Blaine assured Kurt with a smile and his thumb chased away the tears on Kurt’s cheek. BUT I AM SORRY. TRUTH IS, I WAS … AM STILL ANGRY … AT ME. C-H-A-D HIT A NERVE THAT NIGHT AND I DIDN’T … STLL DON’T KNOW HOW TO DEAL WITH IT.

Kurt looked at Blaine expectantly but Blaine didn’t elaborate; instead he continued.

I’VE MADE A FEW DECISIONS THAT I’D LIKE TO SHARE WITH YOU, IF I MAY?

“Of course, of course you may,” Kurt was intrigued. “What decisions?”

YOU KNOW MY RETURN TICKET IS FOR 25 AUGUST, RIGHT?

Kurt’s heart sank. “Yes, I remember – that’s just two weeks away,” he spoke quietly.

WELL, YESTERDAY M-I-K-E AND I WENT TO A TRAVEL AGENT NEARBY AND GOT IT DEFERRED FOR A YEAR.

“You what?” spluttered Kurt. “For a year? What does that mean? You’re going to stay here in the States? Longer? Oh Blaine!” Kurt couldn’t help himself he jumped up and hugged Blaine fiercely. “This is a great decision. But tell me why. What made you decide this?

M-I-K-E AND I HAD A LONG CHAT ABOUT MY CURRENT OPTIONS AND I DECIDED THAT RETURNING TO THE UK WITHOUT THE USE OF MY VOICE WOULD BE WORTHLESS. 

Kurt nodded in agreement.

HE TOLD ME OF A PIANO BAR IN THE BASEMENT OF THE BUILDING NEXT TO HIS STUDIO THAT WAS LOOKING FOR A FULL-TIME PIANIST TO PLAY IN THE EVENINGS OVER THE WEEKEND. HE TOOK ME TO MEET THE MANAGER – I PLAYED A FEW NUMBERS FOR HIM AND HE HIRED ME ON THE SPOT. I START ON FRIDAY NIGHT.

“Blaine,” gasped Kurt. “It’s … Shit! It’s almost too much for me to take in. This is really so exciting. And the manager knows about your voice? – He doesn’t expect you sing? – You just have to play?”

I JUST HAVE TO PLAY THE PIANO. Blaine confirmed, thrilled at Kurt’s positive response.

“But Blaine, what will Nick and Jeff say?”

I THINK THEY’LL BE HAPPY FOR ME BUT YOU’VE GOT TO HURRY UP AND EAT NOW BECAUSE I NEED YOUR HELP IN CHOOSING SOMETHING.

“What? What are you choosing?” Kurt was shoving pancakes into his mouth as he waited for Blaine to answer.

I NEED A MOTORBIKE TO GET AROUND THE CITY AND I HAVE MY EYE ON A BEAUTIFUL HARLEY DAVIDSON BUT I NEED YOUR INPUT.

“A Harley? Oh, Blaine, be still my beating heart! That’s awesome. Can we go this morning? I do have to do some final work on my presentation for tomorrow but I can definitely spare a few hours this morning.”

THANK YOU. Blaine was smiling and for the first time since Blaine arrived in the States, Kurt could see that the smile was reaching his eyes.

ARE WE GOOD THEN?

Kurt reached up and cupped Blaine’s face, “Yeah, we’re good. I’ll always be sorry that you’re hurting because Chad is gone, Blaine, but I’m always going to be glad I bumped into you in London and won your friendship.”

Their embrace was warm, tight and perhaps longer than was necessary but they both needed the contact, the reassurance and the connection.

As Kurt danced away up to his bedroom singing, “We’re going to buy a Harley! We’re going to buy a Harley,” Blaine smiled to himself. _I fixed your boy Santana, and I might just have fixed a few things for me too._

*********

Blaine was sitting on the sofa, his feet curled up under him, paging through the _Bikers_ magazine he’d bought yesterday when the sound of the doorbell chimed. 

“Blaine! Could you get that please? It’ll be Santana. I won’t be much longer,” Kurt’s voice called from inside his bedroom where he had been getting ready for the past hour and a half. Blaine grinned and got up to swing the front door open. Santana stood regally in the entrance. She was dressed in a tight royal blue mini dress with a short black jacket and the shiny knee-length black boots accentuated her long legs. 

Blaine’s eyebrows rose in a gesture of appreciation but she swept past him saying, “Don’t even bother, Hobbit. I know I look amazing. It’s my boy’s big moment today and I have to look hot.” 

Blaine closed the door behind him as Santana turned to face him in the living room. “Well,” she asked, “where is he?”

Blaine jerked this thumb in the general direction of Kurt’s bedroom as he settled back onto the sofa and was startled when Santana yelled down the passage.

“Ponyboy! Get your sweet little ass out here immediately. I’m leaving in five minutes with or without you.”

Both Santana and Blaine heard the door to Kurt’s bedroom open, then close and measured footsteps tapped on the tiles as Kurt made his way towards them. As he stepped into the living room, Blaine’s breath caught in his chest as he took in the vision that was Kurt Hummel. Insanely tight black pants hugged his waist and legs and disappeared into a pair of Fendi black boots. A black waistcoat overlaid his pure white linen shirt which was buttoned up to the collar. A pale blue silk scarf was wrapped casually around his neck and chest twice, allowing a brief glimpse of the small diamond brooch attached to the third button of his shirt.

Santana wolf whistled at him and Blaine thought it was adorable that Kurt blushed at her attention. “Looking good Hummel!” she praised. “Don’t you think, Hobbit?” Santana turned and winked wickedly in Blaine’s direction. 

“Shut it ‘Tana,” hissed Kurt annoyed as he gathered up his messenger bag into which he’d packed his laptop earlier that morning. “I’m sorry, Blaine. You know she has no manners,” he apologised.

Blaine held up his hands in surrender but he was grinning.

HEY, NO COMPLAINTS FROM MY SIDE. YOU LOOK INCREDIBLE K-U-R-T. NOW GO WIN THIS DEAL. I’LL BE HOLDING THUMBS FOR YOU. YOU DESERVE THIS.

“Thank you,” replied Kurt and swung the bag onto his shoulder.

“Later, Hobbit,” called Santana as she moved past Blaine towards the door which she opened but then she stopped to look back into the room at him. “You might want to wipe off the drool on the side of your mouth, Blaine,” she teased and walked out the door yelling, “Car. Hummel. Now!”

“Argh! She is the very devil!” exclaimed Kurt as he stopped in front of Blaine on his way out behind her.

FORGET HER. SHE’S HARMLESS. Blaine was more concerned about Kurt being in the right frame of mind for this very important meeting. He stood up in front of Kurt. CAN I … CAN I ..?

“Can you what, Blaine?” urged Kurt quietly.

Blaine gave up trying to ask for permission and instead simply wrapped his arms around Kurt and drew the man into a hug. Kurt breathed in heavily as he slipped his own hands around Blaine’s neck and rested them on the silent man’s shoulders. He was acutely aware of Blaine’s soft breath on his neck as Blaine increased his grip and squeezed tighter. 

The car’s horn blasting three times in succession broke through their moment and the men separated sheepishly.

“I’ve got to go,” Kurt whispered as Blaine brought his hand up to cup Kurt’s cheek. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” Kurt’s voice was rough with emotion and, as he shyly raised his eyes to meet Blaine’s, he was overwhelmed by the rush of feelings so he turned sharply away and headed out the door.

Blaine watched the car disappear down the hill before he closed the door and resumed his place on the sofa. He leaned over to retrieve his laptop from the coffee table and once it was booted up he opened his email account.

**From: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**To: NickandJeff@gmail.co**

**Date: 7 August**

**RE: Hello and all that …**

 

**Hey guys**

**I know you’ve been waiting for a few days now for this mail and I do apologise for the delay but once you read this you will understand that I needed the time to get my head wrapped around a few things before I could even begin to share them with you.**

**I want to tell you two how much I appreciate you both– even when it seems I don’t, I really need you to know that I am fully aware of just how awesome you both are and how blessed I am by your friendship. Thank you for your patience, now especially.**

**The visit to Artie Abrams was nerve-wracking to say the very least and although I had my doubts that the process would even work, Kurt was adamant that we give it a shot. Artie couldn’t have been kinder. He made me feel very comfortable and very safe and, fortunately, like we agreed, he allowed Kurt to stay in the room with us.**

**Nick, Jeff, I have to confess to you that it seems I managed to completely suppress the memory of a shit-awful fight Chad and I had when he got home that night.**

**I remember telling the two of you after the musical that I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate and that I would call you in the morning and perhaps we could plan to do something together, the four of us, on Saturday night. I went home and basically tried to drown my disappointment in Chad’s absence in a bottle of whiskey.**

**When Chad did eventually get home, way after two in the morning, I was drunk enough to speak my mind. The argument escalated out of proportion and before I knew what was happening, Chad was accusing me of cheating on him in London. We were yelling rather vicious things at each other and all the while my phone kept beeping with incoming messages. At one point, I looked at my phone to see that the messages were coming from Kurt who wanted to know how the musical had gone. Chad flipped out, grabbed the phone out of my hand and threw it against the wall. He then yelled at me, grabbed his car-keys and drove away.**

**That was the last time I saw him alive. The last thing he said to me was “I can’t bear to look at you right now.” The last moments we shared together were wasted in anger and resentment and now that this memory is unlocked, I have to live with that awful knowledge for the rest of my life.**

**So, since our visit to Artie three days ago, I have been trying to come to terms with the enormity of my mistake. I spent some time with Mike Chang the day before yesterday and I have to share with you some of the major decisions I have made in my life.**

**1.** **I’ve deferred my departure from the States for a year. Yesterday, I emailed the Head of School and the Board of Governors to resign with immediate effect. I will email Sebastian and ask him to see about tenants for the house.**

 **2.** **I’ve picked up a part-time job playing the piano at a bar nearby. The hours are nine to midnight on the weekends and the pay’s not shabby at all.**

 **3.** **I’ve bought a motorbike so I can be a little bit more independent and not so reliant on Kurt or some of his friends.**

**I hope you’ll understand when I say that there’s nothing for me to come back for right now. Artie says he doesn’t know when or even if my voice will return. He reckons that I’m punishing myself for the fight that led to Chad’s death and only time and healing will bring about a change. I don’t think that I will ever forgive myself for that so I may as well accept that this muteness is my reality right now. So for now, I just want to be in a place that holds no memories of Chad and Blaine. Can you understand that?**

**I think, that here, in L.A. I might be able to rebuild Blaine. I’m really hoping that you don’t feel that this is a slap in your face. You two are my best friends and I love you dearly but I really need you to understand where I’m coming from right now because I still need to know that you’re in my corner.**

**All my love**

**Blaine**

*********

Blaine was lying on the sofa watching _MasterChef Junior_ when he heard the front door open and Kurt’s distinctive footsteps clattered across the tiles. Blaine sat up expectantly and waited for Kurt to join him in the living room.

“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice called as he entered. “Oh good, you are here,” he exclaimed.

WELL? TELL ME HOW IT WENT. Blaine’s hands flew over the signs in his haste to query Kurt.

“He loved it, Blaine! He totally loved it. Said it was almost perfect for what they were looking for,” Kurt gushed excitedly.

WAIT, WHAT? DID YOU SAY ‘ALMOST PERFECT’? IS THE MAN NUTS? IT IS ABSOLUTELY PERFECT!

Kurt laughed at Blaine’s indignation on his behalf. “Oh Hobbit, you’re such a fanboy! Thank you!”

Blaine smiled as Kurt took his hand and squeezed it. “Blaine, I have such exciting news for you. I want you to hear me out okay? But then, please promise me you’ll say yes.”


	18. Chapter 18

Kurt watched from the window of his study as Blaine’s body lifted effortlessly into the air and smoothly broke the surface of the swimming pool in a perfect dive. He pulled several strokes underwater before rising to the surface again. Standing up in the shallow end, Blaine wiped the water from his face and then heaved himself up onto the edge of the pool. 

Kurt’s attention was drawn to Calypso as she came bounding out of the house following closely on the heels of Santana who strode purposefully towards the shallow end of the pool. A chair was dragged closer to where Blaine was perched with his legs dangling in the cool water as he basked in the sun. Santana sat down arranging her long legs tidily. Kurt smiled as Blaine threw his hands in the air in mock surrender as Santana began to speak to him. Kurt had no idea what she was saying but whatever it was it involved a lot of wild gesticulating hand movements. Kurt giggled. _You don’t stand a chance, Hobbit!_ And he returned his attention to the laptop on his desk.

**From: K.E.HUMMEL@BlazeAdventures.com**

**To: NickandJeff@gmail.com**

**Date: 15 August**

**RE: Help Me Please**

 

**Guys,**

**I really need your help. I know Blaine has emailed you and told you that he has declined the offer made to him but I really need your help in persuading him to accept this incredible opportunity. I’ve tried telling him that he is the perfect person (read ‘musician’) to do this but he won’t listen to me. He says I’m biased because _Blaze_ is essentially my baby. Please won’t you guys do something / say something that will change his mind? I can’t help think that a project of this magnitude would be just perfect for his soul right now. **

**I’d be so grateful because really, I wouldn’t want to trust _Blaze_ to anybody else.**

**Kurt**

*********

**From: NickandJeff@gmail.co**

**To: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**Date: 16 August**

**RE: YOU!**

 

**Blainers!**

**Are you bloody kidding me? You are bloody lucky there’s one hell of a large ocean between us right now because if there wasn’t, I would so be beating your ass right now!**

**How can you say NO to the offer they are making you? Are you stark-raving mad Blaine? Can you remember when we were kids messing around in my dad’s garage with our band – this is what we dreamt of, Blainers - writing and performing our own music. A chance to write your own music for a film … a chance like that comes only once in a lifetime, Blaine, and to VERY few lucky people. If you say no to this, you will regret it for the rest of your life.**

**Blaine – I can understand that your voice shut down is some sort of bizarre punishment that you’ve meted out for yourself in reaction to the fight you and Chad had the night he died. But I can’t help thinking that saying no to this offer is even more creepy punishment and whilst I can do nothing about your voice loss, I can’t stand by and allow you do this to yourself again.**

**If your Grandmother was lucid right now – you know what she would say, don’t you? “Go make good memories – Blaine. Go do something awesome that you can take with you to the old-age home one day.”**

**You HAVE to do this Blaine – if not for yourself then for that wonderful American writer you get to call friend. Do it for Kurt, Blaine! Work alongside him and bring his story to life on the screen through the magic of his words and your music. Bloody hell, Blainers – it’s the least you could do for him!**

**Don’t make me board a plane to come and kick your ass!**

**Love you mate,**

**Nick**

*********

 

YOU REALLY DON’T HAVE TO COME YOU KNOW. 

Blaine was looking across the living room at Kurt who was dressed immaculately in skinny black jeans and tight fitting shirt, ready to accompany him to the piano bar for his debut evening. 

YOU’VE HAD A BUSY WEEK. I’M SURE YOU WOULD RATHER STAY HOME AND REST.

“No way! You’re not getting rid of me that easily. This is your opening night and I will definitely be there to see you enjoy that. I won’t come every night though but tonight’s special and I want to be there for you.” 

Kurt’s face suddenly fell as realisation struck. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, “I didn’t think.” Kurt looked down, not meeting Blaine’s eyes. “Do you not want me there?” he asked quietly.

Blaine quickly closed the distance between them and grabbed both of Kurt’s hands in his. When Kurt wouldn’t meet his eyes, Blaine raised his right hand to cup Kurt’s chin and lifted his friend’s head so he could seek out Kurt’s eyes. Those beautiful glass-blue eyes shimmered in apprehension right now. Instinctively, Blaine opened his mouth to articulate his thoughts but there was no sound and he shook his head in frustration realising that he’d have to let go of Kurt in order to communicate.

Kurt witnessed the aggravation and willed himself to remain calm, his eyes focused on the man in front of him as Blaine signed agitatedly.

NO NEVER! I DO WANT YOU THERE. FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, K-U-R-T, I BARELY FUNCTION WITHOUT YOU. WHY WOULD YOU THINK I WOULDN’T WANT YOU THERE? YOU’RE MY ROCK, MY SAFE PLACE BUT I ALSO WOULD UNDERSTAND IF YOU WERE TOO TIRED TO COME. IT’S BEEN A LONG WEEK FOR YOU.

“Blaine,” interrupted Kurt, his hands gripping the man’s shoulders, “as long as you want me there, then there’s no place I would rather be. Now come on – let’s go.”

Kurt locked the front door behind them and then turned to face Blaine who was sitting astride his gleaming new motorbike holding out the spare helmet for Kurt.

“I did not think this through, did I?” Kurt asked ruefully as he patted his carefully-coiffured hair. Blaine smiled and Kurt’s heart leapt in his chest. Taking the helmet from him, Kurt muttered, “You owe me, Hobbit – and payback’s gonna be a bitch.”

It was an exercise in self-control for Kurt to be seated behind Blaine on the back of the motorbike. He was keenly aware of his chest squashed up against the rider’s back beneath the leather jacket Blaine was wearing. When Blaine patted Kurt’s hands which were wrapped around his waist, Kurt enjoyed the sensation of the leather gloves rasping over his skin. Then the Harley started with a deep throbbing vibration and Blaine took off expertly with Kurt humming along to the sound of the radio playing from the bike’s speakers. It really was a stunning machine and Kurt was thrilled Blaine had bought it for himself because it brought a genuine smile to Blaine’s face. Now if only Kurt could get Blaine to accept the film studio’s offer. Kurt thought he could understand Blaine’s initial reluctance but he was determined to wear the musician down.

Less than 15 minutes later they were pulling up outside the piano bar. Kurt untangled his arms from Blaine’s waist and, leaning slightly on Blaine’s back and shoulders, he lifted himself over and off the machine. Blaine waited until Kurt was standing safely on the pavement before dismounting himself. When his own head was freed from his helmet, he took the helmet Kurt held out to him and paused while Kurt checked his hair in the bike’s mirror. Together, they walked into the bar and at the reception Blaine handed over the two helmets to a woman whose face lit up in delight when she saw him.

“Blaine!” she squealed. “Dad said you’d be starting tonight so I bullied him into allowing me to work.” The woman looked over at Kurt, smiled broadly and then reached out her hand towards him. “Hi, I’m Sugar.”

“Kurt,” he replied as he shook her hand warmly. 

“Mike and Tina are here already. I can seat you with them if you like while Blaine heads to the piano?” Sugar cocked her head to the side waiting for a response as Kurt turned to Blaine.

“Break a leg, Blaine!” he whispered quietly into Blaine’s ear and then turned to follow Sugar into the bar itself.

Blaine watched Kurt walk away and he saw Mike stand in greeting as they reached the reserved table which was fairly close to the piano. Blaine breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with air and trying to still the racing of his heart. _Come on Blaine! Time to focus on the task at hand here._ Blaine walked over to the bar to greet Sugar’s dad, Phillip Motta who grinned cheerfully at him before gesturing to the piano with the words, “Take it away, Piano Man!”

“Do you think he’s nervous, Kurt?” Tina wanted to know but Kurt shook his head.

“No, I don’t think it’s nerves, Tina. It’s a pretty overwhelming moment right now if you think about it. Tonight is the beginning of a brand new start for him. It’s a life that doesn’t include Chad and I think that must be pretty momentous.”

Mike nodded in agreement as Kurt watched Blaine sit down at the piano and stretch his fingers before he pressed out a few chords in quick succession, slowly getting the feel of the piano. The bar’s patrons looked up as they heard Blaine’s fingers run up and down the keyboard in easy familiarity. At that moment, Blaine looked up, caught Kurt’s gaze and with a cheerful grin ran his thumb down the keyboard as he launched into a rowdy rendition of Queen’s _**Don’t Stop Me Now**_.

*********

A light rap on the door frame of his study interrupted Kurt whose head was bent over his computer keyboard as his fingers tapped out letters in rapid fire one after the other. He looked up to find Blaine leaning against the wooden panel. Kurt smiled and stretched back into his chair with a sigh. _Damn, the man looks good. Despite the untamed curls playing havoc on his head and early-morning stubble, the man manages to look gorgeous. How unfair is that?_

“Hey, Blaine,” he greeted. “Did you sleep well?”

YEAH, YEAH I DID. LOOK I’M SORRY TO DISTURB YOU. CAN WE TALK?

Kurt’s smile dropped ever so slightly before he collected himself and schooled his features into an expression of pleasant interest.

“Yes, yes of course. Come in or do you want to talk in the living room?” he invited.

HERE’S FINE. Blaine stepped into the room and sat down on the plush armchair just in front of Kurt’s desk.

Kurt pushed his keyboard to one side and rested his elbows on the desk, his hands folded together under his chin. He watched Blaine carefully, wondering what there was to talk about. Last night had been a roaring success. Philip Motta was thrilled with Blaine’s performance and the bar’s patrons had applauded enthusiastically after each and every number. Blaine had played a wide variety of melodies from up tempo popular tunes to old Broadway numbers to famous film themes – really his repertoire was phenomenal and Kurt had been impressed all over again.

I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE FILM STUDIO’S OFFER. Blaine began and Kurt raised his eyebrows.

“Do you want me to explain the details of their offer again to you, Blaine?” he offered.

NO, THAT’S OKAY. I THINK I UNDERSTAND THE OFFER. IT’S JUST ... Blaine paused and Kurt allowed him the space to collect his thoughts so he could express himself clearly.

CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THAT I DON’T THINK I DESERVE THIS?

“Why would you think that?” Kurt interrupted. “For heaven’s sake, Blaine; you are by far the most talented musician I know and ...” Kurt stopped speaking when Blaine held up his index finger asking for Kurt to WAIT A MINUTE.

THANK YOU. Blaine continued. THAT MEANS A LOT TO ME.

“Well, it’s the truth,” asserted Kurt rather forcefully.

K–U-R-T .... Blaine breathed in deeply and Kurt understood that what was to come next would be hard for Blaine. He held his breath as he watched Blaine sign further.

CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THAT I FEEL SO GUILTY ABOUT CHAD’S DEATH THAT I SHOULDN’T ACCEPT ANYTHING AS WONDERFUL AS A CHANCE TO WRITE THE MUSIC FOR YOUR FILM?

Blaine’s eyes had filled with tears and he allowed them to trickle down his cheek and played nervously with the hem of his T-shirt, waiting for Kurt’s response. Kurt’s heart ached for the pain Blaine was sharing with him and he yearned to be able to gather the man in his arms and kiss away the tears and hold him tight until the hurt was no longer there. _Kurt! Damn it! Focus here_!

“Blaine, can you tell me why you feel guilty? I get that you didn’t have an opportunity to resolve your fight before he died – is that where the guilt stems from? That if you hadn’t fought – he would still be alive?”

Blaine stared long and hard at Kurt. His mind urged, _Tell him the truth! Tell him that …_ but Blaine shrugged his shoulders in defeat and Kurt continued.

“Blaine, I’m not going to try to counsel you here because I’m not a trained therapist but perhaps you should consider seeing someone professional. Someone who can help you work through the guilt you feel. It won’t help you at all for me to say that you shouldn’t feel like that because the truth of the matter is you DO feel like that and someone needs to help you release those feelings so that you can live your life guilt-free. So that you can enjoy the special gifts Life hands you, so that you can feel free to agree to put your talents to good use and write beautiful songs to tell my story of _Blaze_.”

Blaine looked at Kurt and noticed his friends eyes were awash with tears too.

I’D LIKE THAT.

Kurt stared at Blaine, confused.

“You’d like what Blaine?”

I’D LIKE TO WRITE YOU BEAUTIFUL SONGS K-U-R-T.

“You would? You will? Oh, Blaine!” 

Kurt jumped out of his chair, raced around the desk and pulled Blaine up from the armchair, wrapping his arms around the man in a relieved hug. Calypso came bounding into the study, caught up in the men’s excitement and jumped up to wriggle her way into the hug as well. They broke away laughing at her antics.

“Oh, Blaine, thank you! Thank you!” Kurt gushed. “I didn’t want to entrust _Blaze_ to a stranger.”

BUT WILL YOU HELP ME FIND SOMEONE TO TALK TO AS WELL? I THINK I’D LIKE THAT. I THINK I NEED THAT.

Kurt pulled Blaine back into his arms.

“Of course I will!”

*********

**From: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**To: NickandJeff@gmail.co**

**Date: 20 September**

**RE: Just catching up!**

 

**Hey you two**

**I know it’s been way too long since I last wrote and I am sorry but wow, I’ve been pretty busy these last few weeks and I think next month is just going to get even busier. Thanks for your support of everything I’m doing – I really appreciate it!**

**Playing at the piano bar each evening over the weekend is proving to be amazing fun and I’m making some fabulous friends. The owner, Phillip Motta, has a wonderful daughter called Sugar and she is just a whole can of crazy. Her father dotes on her and allows her anything she wants. She’s decided we need to do something spectacular for the weekend after Halloween and I’m waiting with bated breath as to what her idea of ‘spectacular” happens to be. She’s been very kind to me and protects me from people who want to get involved in conversations.**

**Despite his dreadlocks and penchant for weirdly random comments, Joe, the bartender, is a really cool guy who makes sure that I never go thirsty. Relax! Nick – I only drink sodas while I’m playing. Sometimes, Santana and Britney join Mike, Tina and Kurt at a table on a Friday night which is great for me. Familiar faces in the crowd mean everything to me! Wish you guys could pop in one night – wouldn’t that be awesome!**

**So, I finally signed the contract with the Studio after I had Sebastian read over the details and assure me that everything was fine. They have given me the use of the recording studio for when I’m ready to start laying tracks and just two days ago, I drove Kurt and myself over to have a look at it.**

**Oh my soul – Nicky! You would totally pee yourself if you saw the equipment they are giving me to play with! I still can’t believe this is actually happening to me. Perhaps it is actually all just a dream and I will wake up in bed at home in Southampton and it’s the morning of the musical and I’m just stressed and … and … Chad will still be alive.**

**Gosh, I’m sorry – that paragraph just ran away with me.**

**Kurt found me a therapist fluent in ASL to see twice a week and I’ve been for four sessions already but we’re only working through the “dad issues” at the moment – apparently I’m even more messed up than I thought! ( _That’s just a joke_!) Seriously, she is rather wonderful and she’s especially awesome because she just gets me. Her brother came out to her family when he was 21 so her understanding is at a whole different level and I’m really glad Kurt found her. She allows my rambling …. much like the above paragraph.**

**Anyway – back to the awesome equipment – Nicky – I promise you it really is the stuff we dreamt of way back when we were kids! At the moment, I spend most of the day at Kurt’s grand piano and it helps that he’s close by because if I need to clarify a point about the characters or the story at that point he’s right there to answer me.**

Blaine stopped typing for a moment, closed his eyes and recalled a conversation between himself and Kurt earlier in the month, a conversation which led to their very first argument.

_Kurt was preparing a meal for them in the kitchen, chopping vegetables at the island and Blaine was pouring wine into glasses for the two of them when it struck him just how domestic the scene was. His mind flashed back to similar occasions when he and Chad had worked efficiently around each other in the kitchen and he was suddenly confused and bewildered as he wondered just what he and Kurt were doing._

_“… and so I told her that there was no way we would allow that.” Kurt frowned at Blaine who seemed frozen in place. “Blaine? Are you even listening to me?”_

_Blaine placed his wine glass on the table and looked at Kurt, not sure if the realization was visible on his face._

_I THINK I SHOULD MOVE OUT._

_“What? What do you mean you think you should move out? England? You want to move back to England?” Kurt was confused and all at once terrified._

_NO, NO NOT ENGLAND. HERE, Blaine gestured around himself. I SHOULD MOVE OUT AND GET MY OWN PLACE._

_Kurt put down the knife he was holding and wiped his hands on the nearest dish cloth. He walked slowly towards Blaine and took hold of his one hand._

_“Okay, Hobbit. Slow down and tell me what’s going on in your head right now.”_

_I THINK I SHOULD GET MY OWN PLACE K-U-R-T. YOU’VE DONE SO MUCH FOR ME BUT I CAN’T KEEP SPONGING OFF YOU LIKE THIS._

_“And who says you’re sponging?” Kurt’s voice was tight as he held his emotions in check. “If Santana, I swear, Blaine, if Santana has said …”_

_Blaine held up his hand interrupting Kurt._

_I SAY SO. LOOK, I’M BACK ON MY FEET, SO TO SPEAK. THANKS TO YOU I HAVE A WELL-PAYING JOB. I SHOULD START BECOMING MORE INDEPENDENT AGAIN._

_“Are you saying I’ve stripped you of your independence?” Kurt’s voice was low and very quiet._

_NO, THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M SAYING AT ALL. COME ONE K-U-R-T LISTEN TO ME, OKAY? I’VE BEEN LIVING WITH YOU SINCE THE BEGINNING OF JULY. YOU HAVE TAKEN CARE OF MY EVERY NEED AND I AM SO SO GRATEFUL BUT I CAN’T KEEP DOING THIS._

_“Fine,” said Kurt through gritted teeth. “If you want to move out, please be my guest.”_

_He flung the dish cloth onto the island, switched off the stove and strode out of the kitchen. Blaine heard the bedroom door slam. What in the name of all that is unholy just happened here? He wondered in astonishment._

_Blaine made a conscious decision to follow Kurt and he walked purposefully down the passage towards Kurt’s bedroom. But, as he raised his hand to knock, he stopped as the soft sound of muffled sobs reached him. He lowered his hand and turned to go. I’ve made him cry. Dear Heaven, what kind of person am I? This man has done nothing but be there for me in whatever way he can and this is the way I repay him? Blaine took a deep breath and turned back to Kurt’s door, raising his hand to knock before he could change his mind._

_He knew Kurt heard the knock because the soft crying stopped and a slightly stuffy voice rang out._

_“Just a minute, Blaine.”_

_Blaine waited patiently at the door listening as Kurt blew his nose and then the door was opened slowly. Kurt clung to the door handle and his eyes flicked to Blaine’s face just once before he asked “What is it Blaine?”_

_Blaine hated the fact that Kurt wouldn’t look at him. He reached out to cup Kurt’s chin and didn’t miss Kurt’s sharp intake of breath as he raised his friend’s face towards his. Kurt’s wet eyes settled on Blaine’s as Blaine stepped away slightly so he could sign._

_K-U-R-T – WHY ARE YOU SO UPSET? PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I’VE DONE TO UPSET YOU? PLEASE K-U-R-T – I’M SORRY – I’LL FIX WHATEVER IT IS BUT PLEASE DON’T BE UPSET. I CAN’T BEAR TO SEE YOU LIKE THIS._

_“Oh Blaine,” Kurt’s hand reached out to capture one of Blaine’s and his other reached out to cup Blaine’s face in a reciprocal action. “Just ignore me. I am the most selfish person on the planet. Santana will vouch for that.”_

_Blaine raised his hand to cover Kurt’s hand which was now resting on his cheek as Kurt continued. “Hobbit, you are so sweet and you are so desperate to make everyone happy – it’s horribly easy to take advantage of you. I’m so sorry.”_

_Kurt could see Blaine frown in confusion so he continued._

_“Blaine – I don’t want you to move out because I’m selfish. I like having you here. I like the fact that you’re here. I like …” his voice petered out. Don’t say it! Don’t say it! He stepped back from Blaine disentangling their hands, his face stricken with sadness._

_“If you want to move out, I will support you. I’m sorry. I was being very selfish.”_

_YOU DON’T WANT ME TO MOVE OUT?_

_“Honestly? No, no I don’t. I don’t want you to move out, Blaine. Please stay.”_

_EVEN IF IT’S A WHOLE YEAR?_

_“Yes, of course! Stay as long as you like. Please make this your home – well your American home at any rate. Please don’t go, Blaine.”_

_OKAY, BUT CAN WE TALK ABOUT ME MAKING MORE OF A CONTRIBUTION SO I DON’T FEEL LIKE I’M SPONGING?_

_“Anything, Blaine. Shit! I’ll agree to anything,” Kurt’s relief and joy was immediately obvious. “Just please don’t move out.”_

Blaine’s fingers played with the keyboard of his laptop as he considered the new arrangement he and Kurt had come to. Kurt was willing to accept Blaine’s contributions towards groceries and utilities and they agreed to decide at the start of the week which of them would be responsible for meals on which evenings depending on what their respective schedules looked like.

**The story of _Blaze_ is just fantastic. I know that when this film hits the screen it’s going to be a global success and to be allowed to be a small part of that is just a remarkable privilege for me and I will always be very grateful to Kurt for all the doors he’s opened for me. He’s just the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met, you know. Well, obviously besides you two!! You know that!! He’s incredibly witty and has a razor sharp mind which he needs to be able to keep up with Santana’s special brand of insanity. But he’s warm and compassionate as well as kind and generous and he’s a hopeless romantic if his movie choices are anything to go by.**

Blaine sighed happily as he thought back to the previous evening.

_“So, are you choosing the movie or am I doing that this evening?” Kurt asked as he took the plate from Blaine and stacked it in the dishwasher. Blaine had prepared a delicious pasta dish which they’d eaten out on the patio as soon as Kurt had returned from a late afternoon meeting in the city._

_YOUR TURN TO CHOOSE replied Blaine._

_As soon as the kitchen was tidy again, they settled down on the sofa and Kurt inserted his choice of movie into the DVD player. Blaine’s eyebrow rose in interest as the opening credits for Casablanca rolled and the music swelled around them._

_REALLY? He smiled and Kurt grinned back at him cheerfully._

_“Yes, really Hobbit.” Kurt coughed and put on his best Humphrey Bogart expression and voice. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you had to walk into mine.”_

_Blaine applauded the impression enthusiastically._

_“Come on then, let’s get comfortable, shall we?” Kurt pulled the blanket off the arm of the sofa and spread it over himself and Blaine as they settled down to watch the film._

Blaine wondered how he could tell Nick and Jeff just how comfortable he was around Kurt. How would he explain that during the movie his head had come to rest on Kurt’s shoulder and the man had tilted his own head and let it rest on Blaine’s in return? How could he explain to his oldest friends that that simple action felt so natural and brought him so much comfort? How…

“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice interrupted Blaine’s thoughts. “You finished yet? We need to get going.”

Blaine swallowed, nodded and quickly signed off his email and clicked on Send. Then closing his laptop, he stood up to accompany Kurt.

*********

Blaine tugged his hoodie around him as he stood up from the piano and stretched. He had been surprised at the drop in temperature in L.A. as an autumnal October settled comfortably around them and Kurt had dragged him off on a shopping spree a few weeks back to “bulk up for winter.” Still, it was nowhere near as cold as Southampton would be at this time of the year and Blaine remained pleased with his decision to stay longer in the States. He stepped lightly down the corridor towards Kurt’s study and rapped lightly on the wooden frame of the open door. Kurt looked up from his computer and smiled at the man in the doorway.

“Hey you,” he said softly. “Is it time for a break already?”

NO, ACTUALLY I NEED YOUR HELP WITH SOMETHING. CAN YOU COME WITH ME?

“Sure,” replied Kurt easily. “Let me just save this paragraph quickly. I’ve trapped Blaze in a cave underwater-” Kurt laughed when he saw Blaine’s concerned look. “Don’t worry, Hobbit. I’ll rescue him when I’ve finished helping you.”

Kurt stood up and joined Blaine as they walked together back towards the den.

“So what can I do for you, Blaine?” he asked as they entered what had essentially become Blaine’s workspace over the past few weeks. Kurt couldn’t help the smile as he took note of all the music equipment that had been set up around the room. He loved the feel of this room now. It had Blaine’s personality stamped all over it and Kurt liked that.

WOULD YOU PLEASE SING THIS FOR ME? Blaine asked pointing to the music sheets at the piano. I CAN’T SEEM TO GET THE BRIDGE RIGHT AND I NEED TO HEAR IT.

Kurt caught the edge of frustration in Blaine’s eyes and his own softened in sympathy.

“Sure,” he replied softly. “I’d love to.”

Blaine sat down on the piano stool and tugged Kurt down to sit beside him. Kurt studied the sheet music in front of them.

“Play it through once or twice so I can get used to the melody and then I’ll jump in when I’m comfortable. Is that okay?”

Blaine nodded and began to play. Kurt tried to keep an eye on the music but his attention was drawn to Blaine’s longer slender fingers as they raced up and down the keyboard pressing the keys, sometimes quickly sometimes slowly, as the beautiful sound of the song he had created filled the air around them. The melody was simple and sweet and Kurt found he closed his eyes as he imagined the music as the background to the scene in the film. When Blaine nudged him to gain his attention, Kurt opened his eyes and began to sing the lyrics Blaine had written. 

As he sang, Kurt realised that Blaine had written this as a duet and that he was in fact singing the harmony as Blaine played out what was essentially Blaze’s heartache at this point of the story. Kurt turned to glance at Blaine and saw the emotion building in his eyes; he placed his hand in comfort on Blaine’s thigh and sang the last few lines of the last verse holding the last high note effortlessly until the piano sound faded away. Blaine’s hands stilled on the keyboard.

“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice was tentative. “Are you okay?”

Blaine shook his head and swallowed hard.

“You miss your voice, don’t you?” 

Blaine nodded and allowed the tears to roll.

“I do too Blaine. I miss hearing you laugh,” Kurt confessed quietly.

Blaine smiled weakly through his tears.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kurt declared, as he gripped Blaine by the shoulders and turned him to face Kurt. Blaine’s eyes revealed his hurt and anguish and Kurt raised a thumb on either side of Blaine’s face and gently wiped away the tears that still rolled.

“I’m here, shhh it’s okay,” he whispered.

Blaine nodded gratefully and his gaze dropped to Kurt’s mouth. Instinctively, Kurt licked his lips. The air around them was suddenly heavy with anticipation.

“Here you both are!” Santana’s voice sliced through the moment and Kurt jerked away from Blaine and onto his feet in one movement. Blaine used the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe away the last traces of tears as he too looked up at the intrusion.

“Oh .. um … am I interrupting something?” Santana asked, her eyebrows raised high in suspicion. “Please say I’m interrupting something!”

“Santana, I swear …What are you doing here? How did you even get in?” Kurt was annoyed.

Santana winked wickedly. “I may or may not have had a key cut when you moved in. Always hoped I’d catch you in a compromising situation one day!”

“Santana!”

“Aaaaannyway” she drawled. “I’m here to drag your two sorry asses downtown so we can get costumes for the Halloween party at Joe’s.”

“Santana, I don’t think we’re-” Kurt began to offer an excuse.

“Frankly, Hummel, I don’t care what you and the Hobbit think about this. It’s a done deal – You two, Mike and Tina, Brits and I are attending Joe’s party on Thursday night. Britney has decided that we’re all going dressed as characters from _Alice in Wonderland_ and before you get any smart ideas – she’s already assigned roles. You best be doing this PonyBoy because I don’t want Britney disappointed.”

Kurt turned to Blaine. “Please don’t feel pressured into doing anything you’re not up to-” he began.

“Oh cut the crap, Luscious Lips, the hobbit’s coming,” Santana grabbed Blaine’s arm and proceeded to frog march him out the door.

“Grab your coats, lads, Aunty ‘Tana’s gonna spoil you!”

*********

**From: NickandJeff@gmail.co**

**To: AndersonBD@freemail.co.uk**

**Date: 13 November**

**RE: Stateside Shenanigans**

 

**Blaine**

**Nicky and I laughed ‘til the tears were pouring down our cheeks at your description of your Halloween party. By the sounds of it, you had yourself a blast, mate! The photos were awesome. You make a very cute Mad Hatter, B and Kurt really can pull off a bunny costume! We’re so glad you were able to have some fun with your new friends but that Santana chick sounds dead scary even though she looked awesome as the Queen of Hearts! I guess you’re right in your observation that “them Yanks” make more of a thing of Halloween than we do. Nick and I had a bowl of candy ready and we had a few trick-or-treaters come round but it wasn’t really a big thing.**

**I went with Nick to the school’s bonfire night on Guy Fawkes Day and bumped into Rosie Billington’s mother. She asked me to send her very best regards to you Blaine. Says she’ll always remember you fondly for the way in which you and Kurt coaxed Rosie out of the bathroom that evening. She said she is praying that your voice would recover soon so you could return to us. I then told her that you’d been scooped up by Hollywood and that you were composing music for Kurt’s film version of _Blaze_ and she squealed, Blaine – she squealed! I swear she was about to ask me to get your autograph when Nicky rescued me.**

**Hey so, your Thanksgiving plans sound good. I know you really got on well with Kurt’s dad when you met them in the summer so I guess it will be good to have them visit again for that long weekend. The dinner you two are planning sounds delicious. I always find it interesting that the Yanks have this huge celebration now in November and then they do it all over again in December. You must write and tell us all about it. Nicky and I are living our American dream vicariously through you**.

*********

“In this family, we hold hands while we each say what we’re grateful for this year,” Kurt explained for Blaine’s benefit and all those around the table nodded in agreement. They’d been a part of Kurt’s Thanksgiving dinners for a number of years now and knew the drill.

Burt chuckled softly, “Yeah, it was the only way we could get Finn to stop picking at the food with his fingers while everybody took turns to speak.”

Blaine’s eyes widened as everyone around the table laughed fondly at the memory of Finn’s appetite.

“I’ll start, shall I?” asked Carole and, upon receiving the go ahead from Kurt in the form of a genteel wave, she continued. “I’m grateful that we can remember Finn with laughter. I’ll always miss him but I am so grateful to be surrounded by all of you.” Blaine watched as Carole made eye contact with each person seated around the table and he ducked his head when her smile landed on him and she squeezed his hand.

“Well, I’m grateful for the holiday we were able to enjoy in the summer – thank you Kurt.” Burt’s voice was deep and steady. “I’m grateful for the business that I’ve had this year in the garage but most of all I’m grateful for my family – whatever it looks like at the table each year – I’m just grateful.”

From his position beside Burt, Mike spoke next. “I’m grateful for the extra students we’ve gained this year and for the fact that the dance studio is going well.” Tina squeezed his hand and smiled at him lovingly. Blaine felt a knot tighten in his throat.

“And I’m grateful for my husband and my friends – old-” she eyed Kurt and Santana, “and new,” and her eyes caught Blaine’s and held them fast.

“Well,” drawled Santana, “I’m just grateful Kurt lines my pockets.” Everyone around the table laughed. “I’m nothing if not brutally honest,” she explained.

“I’m grateful that you guys are all here, around my table this year. I’m grateful for the opportunity to get _Blaze_ onto the Big Screen and, because of that, I’m grateful Blaine is here and is bringing his musical expertise to my project.” Blaine returned Kurt’s soft smile with a gentle one of his own.

“Right,” declared Kurt, “Let’s eat!” The dinner guests were surprised when the harsh sound of a knife tapping against glass disturbed them. They looked across the table at the culprit. Blaine looked back defiantly.

WAIT A MINUTE, he signed. DOESN’T THE RESIDENT ENGLISHMAN GET A CHANCE TO SPEAK?

“Mike, you’d better tell me what he’s saying,” announced Santana. “All this flailing around with the hands does nothing for my appetite.”

“Santana!” hissed Kurt. “You do know that he can hear you, right?”

“Blaine, of course you get a chance to share,” Carole smoothly intervened. “I guess none of us wanted to put you on the spot is all.”

THANK YOU gestured Blaine. I CAN UNDERSTAND YOUR CAUTION BECAUSE I HAVE LOST SO MUCH THIS YEAR – MY HUSBAND, MY VOICE, MY JOB.

Carole’s eyes welled up but she did not move to wipe away the tears.

BUT YOU KNOW, DESPITE THE LOSSES, I HAVE MUCH TO BE GRATEFUL FOR. I’M GRATEFUL FOR NICK AND JEFF WHO HAVE BEEN STALWART FRIENDS THIS YEAR. I HAVE PUT THEM THROUGH A LOT BUT THEY NEVER GAVE UP ON ME AND THEY STILL LOVE ME.

Burt was nodding in agreement as Blaine continued.

I’M GRATEFUL TO BE SITTING AROUND THIS TABLE SHARING A MEAL WITH YOU ALL. I’M GRATEFUL THAT YOU ARE IN MY LIFE AND I APPRECIATE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU.

Blaine took a moment to look at each one seated around the table.

BUT MOST OF ALL I’M GRATEFUL TO K-U-R-T. Blaine’s eyes swam with tears as he continued.

YOU WILL NEVER KNOW HOW GRATEFUL I AM THAT I MET YOU IN LONDON AND I HOPE YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE EVERYTHING YOU HAVE DONE FOR ME. YOU ARE …. YOU ARE …

Blaine couldn’t continue, too overcome with emotion. Kurt pushed back his chair from the table, stood up and walked around to where Blaine was sitting. He pulled the man out of his chair and into a fierce hug.

“I know Blaine,” he whispered against Blaine’s ear. “I know. I feel exactly the same way. I am so glad I met you.”

Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt as he returned the hug.

Santana’s voice cracked with emotion she tried desperately to hide. “As touching as this whole silent movie scene has been, I’m starting to lose my appetite so, in the immortal words of Finn Hudson: Let’s eat!”


	19. Chapter 19

Jeff wrapped the tartan scarf tighter around his neck as he locked the door to his outside art studio with the other hand. Around him a bitterly cold winter wind was swirling and several eager snowflakes fell against the backdrop of an already darkening December afternoon. He knew he had only a few minutes to make it back into the house before the snow began to fall heavily. Popping the keys into his jacket pocket, Jeff pulled his gloves on again and turned to walk down the path towards the house. There was a light on in the kitchen and he cursed under his breath. Nick hated it when Jeff left lights on unnecessarily but he could have sworn he had switched it off after lunch before retreating to his studio for the afternoon. _I’ll make it up to him in his Christmas stocking next week_ , he thought as he pushed open the door only to find Nick standing at the counter, his hand on the kettle. 

“Hey, Beautiful!” Turning around to sweep Jeff into a warm hug, Nick greeted his husband enthusiastically.

“Nick!” gasped Jeff in surprise. “You’re home early!” He tried to close the backdoor behind him with his foot because his arms were trapped in Nick’s embrace but, noticing his struggle, Nick simply pushed the door closed himself.

“Mmmm” his lips nuzzled at the side of Jeff’s neck. “The Head sent us home early. There’s a warning for a really bad snow storm tonight.”

“And we all know just how much you love being snowed in at Christmas time, Nicholas Duvall!” Jeff teased squirming away from Nick’s lips on his neck.

“Let me change, Nicky, and then we can see about dinner. Will you make me some hot chocolate when the kettle boils?”

Reluctantly Nick let go of Jeff. “I will but hurry up, Beautiful. I have plans! Snowy sort of plans,” he promised, wriggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

Giggling, Jeff left his husband in their kitchen and went to shrug off his jacket in the hallway. Still smiling at his husband’s antics and pet name for him, he stopped off in the living room to flick on the television. He was almost out the door, heading towards the stairs, when the Sky News reader’s voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

_“And breaking news from Hollywood: We have received unconfirmed reports that Kurt Hummel, best-selling children’s author, has been involved in a multi-car pile-up resulting in several fatalities. Police have declined to comment at this early stage and no statement has been received from the author’s office. We will of course keep you updated as and when we receive further news.”_

“Nick” whispered Jeff, frozen in place. “Nick!” –His voice was a little louder and then in full-blown panic, he yelled, “Nick! Get in here now!”

“Jeff! What is it? You’re scaring me!” Nick rushed into the living room where he found Jeff sort of collapsed on the edge of the coffee table staring fixedly at the television.

“Nick,” Jeff whispered, gesturing to the television screen to where the red ticker tape running across the bottom of the screen repeated the appalling news. Nick sat down beside Jeff, taking his hand in his as he read: **Award-winning children’s author, Kurt Hummel, among those rushed to hospital after a multi-car pile-up in Beverley Hills last night. Names of the deceased will be released when the next of kin have been informed.**

His face completely drained of blood, Nick turned to his husband and whispered, “Blaine? … Do you think …?” He couldn’t finish his sentence because Jeff had grabbed Nick’s sweater in his fist.

“Call him! Call Kurt’s phone, Nicky! Call it!” Jeff’s voice was rising in hysteria and, in the face of his husband’s panic, Nick’s protective nature kicked in, grounding himself and allowing Nick to take charge sensibly.

“Beautiful, I don’t think it will be working right now … or that he’ll even have it with him.”

“Nick, just call him and find out where Blaine is! Call him! Damn it! Why can’t Blaine just get over himself already and send us a text to say he’s alright but that Kurt is hurt? I have to know about Blaine! I have to know!” Jeff was sobbing now and Nick pulled his husband towards him and held him as he cried.

“Ju … just ca … call his ph … phone please, Nicky.” Jeff hiccupped through his plea.

Still cradling his husband in his arms, Nick reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. Expertly, with one hand, he unlocked the screen and his thumb flicked through his contacts list. With a deep breath, he tapped on the name KURT HUMMEL and waited. It took a while for the connection to be made but to Nick’s immense disappointment he heard the standard greeting of: “The subscriber you have dialled is not available.”

He disconnected and looked into Jeff’s wet disappointed eyes and shook his head.

“Don’t you have their landline number?” Jeff asked hopefully.

“No, Beautiful, I don’t,” replied Nick quietly. “You know we’ve only been communicating via email or on Kurt’s mobile number.”

“That’s it!” shouted Jeff, moving quickly out of Nick’s arms. “I’ll send an email!” Jeff jumped up from the table and ran to the kitchen where their laptop lay on their breakfast table.

Nick watched him leave with an ache in his heart when the sudden ringing of his phone shocked him back into reality. Checking the caller ID, he answered.

“Sebastian?”

“Nick! I’ve just seen the news. Have you heard? Blaine’s friend in the States – the one he’s staying with – that author – Kurt - he’s been involved in an accident. He’s in the hospital and they say others are injured and dead. Nicholas! Tell me you’ve heard from Blaine. Dear Heaven, please tell me you’ve spoken to Blaine.” 

Sebastian’s voice broke and Nick was bewildered. Sebastian was always so composed, so clinical, so collected in the face of calamity. Nick recalled how angry Blaine had been with Sebastian for “keeping it all together” emotionally when Chad had died. This desperate babbling Sebastian was one he’d never met before.

“No, Bas, we haven’t spoken to Blaine. Jeff and I just found out ourselves and we tried ringing Kurt’s mobile but it’s switched off.”

“Oh merciful Heaven, how can this be happening?” Sebastian all but shouted on the phone. “I can’t do this Nick! I can’t do this again. Not Blaine – please Nicky - not Blaine!” Sebastian began to weep on the other side.

“Sebastian!” Nick raised his voice to cut through the noisy sobbing on the other side and gain the other man’s attention.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Sebastian muttered into the phone.

“Bas – who is listed as Blaine’s next of kin now that Chad is dead?” Nick asked.

Sebastian blew his nose and then replied. “I think his grandmother is listed but I’m the ICE number on all the forms we completed for his contract with the Hollywood studio.”

“The Studio!” Nick burst out. “Of course! Bloody hell! I should have thought of that. Sebastian, listen to me. You’ve got the Studio’s contact details. Ring them and make them tell you something. At least get a contact number for Kurt’s father or someone who can give us details.”

Sebastian was quiet on the other side.

“I can’t lose him too, Nick,” he said quietly.

“Bloody hell, Sebastian! Get a grip, mate. Ring that Hollywood Studio and demand that someone gives you something! Come on Bas, do it now. I’m going to ring you back in fifteen, okay? Go, get me some information.”

“Information, right I’m on it.” 

Jeff came back into the living room. His face pale and eyes red-rimmed from crying. “I sent them each an email,” he said as he sat down on the sofa beside his husband who immediately grabbed him and pulled him closer. Jeff lay back with his head on Nick’s shoulder.

“Nicky – this is just one hell of a shitty year!” Nick’s response was to pull the man he loved even closer to his chest and run his fingers through Jeff’s blonde silky hair.

The newsreader’s voice penetrated their musings and they sat up to listen.

_“For more information on the accident involving award-winning children’s author, Kurt Hummel, we cross live to our reporter at the hospital in Los Angeles. Emma, can you give us any more details?”_

The screen changed to reveal a young woman standing on the street outside a brick building which both men assumed was the hospital. She looked straight at the camera and began to speak.

_“Yes, well Kate, it’s just after 9am here and Los Angelinos are waking up to the news that their favourite children’s author, Kurt Hummel, is indeed recovering from emergency surgery as we speak. The hospital spokesman came out a few minutes ago while we were setting up and informed us that further information would be given at a press conference later in the day. What I can tell you is that it was a four-car pile-up. Two confirmed fatalities and Kurt Hummel is one of seven people rushed to hospital in the early hours of this morning. The police are obviously investigating the cause of the accident and so far we have heard that Kurt Hummel was not actually driving his own car._

Jeff was gripping Nick’s hand so hard his knuckles were white. “Was it a motorbike?” he asked the reporter. 

“Was Kurt on a motorbike?” he yelled in frustration when his question went unanswered, the screen changing back to the studio where the newsreader continued.

“No! Come on!” Jeff shouted. “Don’t leave! Stay there! Don’t- Argh!!!!!” Jeff got up from the sofa and began to pace the floor. Nick got up as well.

“Jeff, Angel,” he hushed softly. “This isn’t helping, Beautiful.”

Jeff looked at his husband in anguish, the tears sliding unchecked down his cheeks.

“Blaine…” whispered Jeff brokenly and allowed himself to be gathered once more into his husband’s arms.

“I know, my Love, I know.” Nick was stroking the man’s head, soothing him with soft shushing sounds.

“Sebastian is going to ring the film studio. He’ll bully them into giving us some news and a contact number. We just have to be patient and let Bas work his magic. Let me make you that hot chocolate and then we can wait together here in the living room with the TV on.”

Jeff settled back onto the sofa, wrapping the fleecy blanket they kept folded over the back of the armchair around his body as he curled his feet up underneath his body. He picked up the remote and switched from Sky News to the CNN channel hoping they might have more news - they were an American channel, after all.

In the kitchen, Nick set out two mugs and heaped two teaspoons of chocolate powder into each. As he waited for the kettle to boil again, he stood with his hands spread wide apart on the counter top and rested his head against the top row of kitchen cupboards. 

_Please Blaine! Please be alright. Let me know, somehow. Please mate. Please Blaine. Don’t be leaving me._

Sniffing away the threatening tears, Nick poured water over the chocolate and beat the teaspoon furiously to allow the drink to froth just the way Jeff liked it. Then he carried both mugs through to the living room, setting them down on the coasters which Jeff pushed forward.

“Anything?” he asked quietly, indicating the news channel.

“No, nothing new. Same story as Sky News, just really crappy accents. No information about a motor-bike either.”

“Will you turn it down a bit, Love? I want to ring Sebastian.”

Jeff muted the television, picked up his mug of hot chocolate and settled back into the comfort of the corner of the sofa. Nick had his phone to his ear.

“Bas?” he asked when Sebastian answered. “Did you manage to get-”

“Nick,” interrupted Sebastian, “have you got a pen nearby? This is Burt Hummel’s personal mobile number. You do not want to know what I had to threaten in order to get this. Do _not_ give it to anyone! But if you ring it, Kurt’s father should answer. Nicky, please call me back as soon as you’ve spoken to him okay?”

“Absolutely, I promise.”

Jeff set the mug back on the table and leaned forward to wrap his arm around his husband as Nick’s shaking fingers pressed out the many digits on his phone and then as he raised it to his ear, he sought Jeff’s hand and entwined their fingers, grounding himself in the security of their love.

“It’s ringing” he whispered to Jeff.

“Hello?” Burt’s voice was soft, laced with fatigue and caution as he obviously didn’t recognize the number on his phone’s screen.

“Mr Hummel? This is Nicholas Duval-”

“You reporters are insanely relentless,” Burt interrupted angrily. “How did you get this number?”

“Sir no, no! I’m not a reporter. I’m Nick! Blaine’s friend from England.”

“Blaine’s what?” Burt was struggling to understand the clipped English accent and Nick could hear muttering in the background.

“Who is it?” The sound was muffled but Nick recognized Kurt voice.

“Kurt!” he called out “Sir, tell Kurt, it’s Nick on the phone.”

“Nick?” Burt repeated, clearly quite confused.

“Dad?”

“It’s Nick.”

“Give it here”

“Kurt no, the doctor said-”

“Dad, give me the phone please – it’s Nick.”

“Nick, one moment – Kurt will speak to you.” Burt’s voice was clear, once again, in Nick’s ear. The relief was immediate and Jeff crept closer to Nick on the sofa straining to hear the conversation.

“Kurt?”

“Nick?”

“Bloody hell Kurt! What the hell happened? Are you alright?”

Jeff grabbed the phone from Nick.

“Kurt, Where’s Blaine? Can we speak to Blaine?”

“Jeff, Honey, wait. Let me speak to him.” Nick retrieved the phone from Jeff.

“Sorry, Kurt we’re going insane here,” Nick tried to explain. “Kurt, where’s Blaine?”

“Nick,” Kurt’s voice was quiet and the moment stretched between them. Jeff stilled beside Nick as they waited – waited for news that would turn their lives upside down yet again. Outside the snow fell heavily, coating the house with a thick covering. Jeff caught himself wishing that that the blanket of snow could insulate them from Kurt’s words.

“Nick, how soon can you and Jeff get here?”

*********

In her impossibly high heels, Santana paced to the right of the barrier which separated the waiting crowds from the arriving passengers in the Arrivals Hall of LAX. She glanced at her wrist watch again, sighed heavily and looked back up at the doorway. A group of tourists, obviously travelling together in an organised tour, were being shepherded like young children as they followed a smartly dressed woman holding a closed black umbrella above her head and Santana clicked her tongue in annoyance. She held her small whiteboard a little higher so that Blaine’s friends could see and read her sign which bore both their names. 

Burt had offered to come to collect Jeff and Nick from the airport but Santana had persuaded him to rather remain beside Kurt’s hospital bed. The press had been ruthless in their pursuit of information regarding Kurt, the accident, the injured and the deceased. If they had seen Burt leaving the hospital Santana knew they would have descended on him like the filthy pack of vultures they are. She had prepared a brief statement on Kurt’s behalf which had been released via the hospital spokesperson late last night. Right now, her number one priority was to get Nick and Jeff to the hospital as soon as possible.

“Pardon me-” A British accent spoke quietly beside her. “Are you Santana? I’m Nick.”

Santana turned her attention to the dark-haired man standing beside her, his arm stretched forward in greeting.

“Yes, yes, that’s me. I’m Santana. Hello Nick,” she replied and shook the man’s hand firmly. 

“This is my husband, Jeff.” Nick put his arm around the blonde-haired man standing beside him gazing at Santana with blood-shot eyes.

“Hello,” Jeff spoke quietly and politely despite the dark rings underneath his eyes. “It’s very kind of you to come to fetch us.”

“Nonsense! It’s the least I can do,” replied Santana. “Andrew’s waiting outside with the car. We should get going.”

The two men followed Santana outside to the Quick Stay car park and Andrew helped them load their suitcases into the trunk. She watched in interest as Nick held open the car door and gestured for Jeff to climb in before getting into the car himself. Santana sat up front with Andrew who swung the car expertly into the flow of traffic ignoring the weird tension in the car.

“Santana,” Nick began tentatively. “How’s Kurt doing?”

Santana swivelled around to face the men at the back. Her face was devoid of expression as she replied. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. His right arm is fractured, two of his ribs are broken and his ankle is wrenched quite badly. The cuts have been stitched up and the bruises will fade eventually. He says he’s fine but both his dad and I know he’s putting on a brave face and swallowing enormous amounts of painkillers.”

Nick nodded sympathetically as Jeff’s hand crept over Nick’s thigh to take hold of his husband’s hand asking quietly, “And Blaine?”

Santana glanced down at their intertwined hands and then looked back up at the two men sitting on the back seat of the car, clinging to each other in their torment as if whatever she said next could best be dealt with as one entity rather than two. Her heart tugged at the evidence of their union and she fought down the old jealousy which flared in the face of such committed devotion.

“Blaine is still in a coma,” she said flatly.

*********

“Nick! Jeff!” Kurt’s voice rang out from his bed as the two men followed Santana into the hospital room.

“Kurt,” Nick replied stepping forward first. “It really is great to meet you, mate. I feel I know you so well already.”

“Me too, Nick, me too. I’m just sorry we had to meet like this. And I’m sorry I don’t have a hand to shake.”

“Can we see Blaine, Kurt” Jeff’s voice was solemn and cut through the bizarre pleasantries of meeting one another for the first time. He stood slightly behind Nick and Kurt had to crane his neck to see him.

“He’s in ICU, lad,” Burt explained gently from his chair at the side of Kurt’s bed.

“I have to see him, Nicky,” whispered Jeff, urgently clutching at his husband’s arm.

“And you will,” Kurt assured the man, glancing over at his dad, “just as soon as we get the go-ahead from his doctor. Guys, this is my dad, Burt.”

Burt stood up and stepped forward to shake each of their hands. “Did you bring the Power of Attorney forms?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Nick. “Sebastian sorted it all out for us and I have them with me here.” Nick gestured to his laptop bag which was slung around his shoulders.

“Good,” replied Kurt. “Santana will take you to the Admissions Office, Nick, so you and Jeff can be listed as Blaine’s next of kin, then, as soon as the doctor gets here we can go see him.”

Nick hugged Jeff briefly and left the room with Santana just as Burt’s phone began to ring.

“It’s Carole,” he explained. ‘I’ll just take this outside.” Kurt watched his dad leave and struggled to adjust his position in the bed wincing in pain as he did so.

“Jeff, you should sit down – you look exhausted,” he suggested. “That flight is horrendous.”

“No, no, thank you. I’m good,” Jeff replied. “I just want to see Blaine. What happened to you guys, Kurt?”

Kurt grimaced and pulled his face in frustration. “Honestly? I don’t remember much. The police have managed to fill in the blanks for me from their eye witness reports.”

“The news reports said there were two fatalities,” Jeff interrupted. “Kurt, when we heard that we thought … we thought …” Jeff could no longer hold back his tears. “Dear Heaven, I thought we’d lost Blaine and … I just couldn’t face that. Chad was our friend too, obviously, but Blaine’s been my .. our … you know, since forever. I just couldn’t. I just …”

Kurt’s eyes welled up, too. “I know Jeff; believe me, I know. I remember crawling towards him on the road because he wouldn’t answer me where he lay so still and I was holding him with my one good arm, crying, waiting for the ambulance and begging him not to leave me. He’s … he’s …”

Jeff reached out to take hold of Kurt’s uninjured arm and gently squeezed it.

“I know,” he nodded in understanding. “He is.”

The door opened and a young doctor entered the room followed closely by Burt, Nick and Santana.

“Mr Hummel? How are you feeling? It’s quite a party you have going on in here,” he said glancing around at those who had entered after him.

“I’m fine, doctor. These are Blaine’s friends from England. They have literally just landed and are quite desperate to see Blaine, as am I!” The doctor nodded, knowing only too well of Kurt’s desperate pleas to leave his own sick bed.

“Well, as you know Blaine is in ICU at the moment so we can only allow you to go in one at a time for very short periods of time. We’ve got him in a drug-induced coma as we wait for the swelling on his brain to reduce. Once that has happened, we’ll wean him off the medication and allow him to come back to consciousness in his own time,” the doctor explained.

“And he will come back, doctor, won’t he?” asked Nick.

The doctor studied Nick carefully. “Young man,” he replied. “Blaine is critically injured although at the moment, he is stable. However, I’m not going to stand here and make you promises I can’t keep. What I can promise, is that we will do everything in our power to restore him to full health and strength.” The doctor paused, allowing his words to sink in; then he addressed Kurt in the bed.

“Kurt, I’m going to recommend that you remain here.”

“But I-” Kurt began to protest.

“Rest!” insisted the doctor. “Those ribs aren’t going to heal unless you remain stationary.” Turning his attention to the two young men standing near the door way he continued, “If you two gentlemen would follow me, please?”

“And me,” piped up Santana. “I’m coming too.”

Kurt called out to her just as she was about to pass through the door.

“Santana! Please tell him … tell him I … tell him-” his instruction to Santana petered out as he couldn’t articulate his thoughts.

“I will, Ponyboy. I will,” Santana assured him, nodding her head and holding his frustrated gaze with her own look of understanding and compassion.

Santana took Jeff’s hand and tucked it into her elbow as the two of them followed the doctor and Nick down the endless hospital corridors. Jeff caught snippets of the conversation taking place ahead of them.

“ _ruptured spleen….. massive internal bleeding ….. broken collar bone …. head trauma_ ”

The doctor led them into the Intensive Care Unit reception and introduced them to the clerical staff behind the counter. A senior staff nurse stepped forward with a kind smile.

“I’m Victoria – responsible for the patients in this particular pod. Blaine has his own nurse with him right now. If you come with me, I’ll introduce you.”

Knocking gently on the door labelled 4B, Victoria peered in though the small square glass panel and caught the attention of the nurse inside. Victoria beckoned for her to come out into the corridor and a moment later, the door opened and petite blonde stood before them.

“Nancy, these are Blaine’s friends who have just arrived from England,” she gestured to Nick and Jeff and the young nurse smiled at the men.

“Hello, it’s good that you came. He’s going to need all the support he can get. Dr Greenfield here will tell you that I can only let one of you in at a time. Who’s coming first?”

Nick looked at Jeff who pushed his husband forward. “You go first, Nicky.”

Nick hugged his husband tightly. “I won’t be long then you can go in too, okay?” Jeff nodded, his eyes swimming with tears again.

Santana took Jeff’s hand and guided him to some chairs in the corridor as Nick followed Nancy’s instructions to sanitise his hands using the dispenser outside the door before following her and the doctor inside.

“He’s going to make it, isn’t he, Santana?” Jeff’s desperate eyes pleaded with her.

“Ah, Honey,” Santana rubbed his arm in comfort as she murmured quietly “our hobbit’s a fighter, isn’t he?”

Inside the room, Nick was finding it difficult to see through the tears in his eyes. He approached the bed tentatively, cautious of the unfamiliar sounds and smells and very aware of his heart pounding furiously in his chest _. Shit, h_ e thought to himself, _this would be the place to have a heart attack_!

“Blaine, mate, it’s Nick. I’m here, buddy.” His voice cracked as he took in Blaine’s motionless form on the bed. Tubes seemed to protrude from everywhere and machines beside the bed beeped and hissed. Blaine’s face was pale against the blue pillowcase but the dark bruises beneath each eye made it look like he’d gone several rounds in the boxing ring. Nick took Blaine’s hand in his and squeezed it as he leaned low over the bed.

“I’m here now, B. No matter what happens, I’m here, mate.”

Later, when Jeff walked out of the ICU cubicle having spent a few minutes with Blaine, Nick took the crying man into his arms again as Santana went inside.

“What do we do now, Nicky?” Jeff asked pitifully.

“Now, we wait, Jeff,” replied Nick sadly. “And we pray.”


	20. Chapter 20

Burt was sitting at the island in the middle of Kurt’s kitchen, peeling an apple, when Nick stumbled though late the following afternoon.

“Hey lad, how’re you doing?” Burt asked, concern for the young man etched on his face. Nick nodded and gestured to the phone beside Burt’s plate.

“Any news?” he enquired earnestly.

“Nothing new, Nick. I told you it would be alright for you and Jeff to come here and get some much needed sleep.”

“Thank you Mr Hummel-” Nick began but he was quickly interrupted by Kurt’s father.

“Burt. Call me Burt.”

“Thank you, Burt. You were right – we did need to get some sleep. It’s very kind of Kurt to have us stay over here. Jeff and I wouldn’t have minded booking into a hotel you know.”

“Nonsense,” scolded Burt. “Kurt wouldn’t hear of anything different. Were you two comfortable in Blaine’s room though?”

Nick nodded. “I guess we were both so tired yesterday that we didn’t actually realize it was Blaine’s room we were sleeping in. It was only this morning when I woke up and was surrounded by so much of him that it dawned on me.”

Nick sat down beside Burt at the island and with his elbows on the table he allowed his head to fall into his hands.

“Burt, I still can’t believe this is happening. It’s like a really bad nightmare.”

“I know, son,” Burt replied kindly and he placed his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “But, remember, you and Jeff are not alone in this. We’re all here for Blaine and we’re here for you too.”

The silence that followed was interrupted by the chiming of the doorbell. When Nick looked up, Burt explained.

“That’ll be Mike and Tina. They offered to take you and Jeff to the hospital this afternoon. They want to spend some time with Kurt while you guys visit with Blaine.”

Once Nick had been introduced to Mike and Tina, he excused himself to wake Jeff and get the two of them ready to leave for the hospital within half an hour. Once he’d left the room, Mike turned to Burt.

“How’s Kurt doing?” he asked.

“Kurt’s in lot of pain and wallowing in frustration. He’s not allowed up yet and he’s desperate to see Blaine, so yeah, don’t expect pleasantries this evening when you visit with him.”

Tina shrugged. “It’s an awful situation to be in, isn’t it? I mean they’re so close – and not to be able to see him, must be driving Kurt insane.”

“Well then,” asserted Mike. “We know our mission for today, don’t we? Operation Cheer-Up Kurt has officially been launched.”

Burt laughed. “You’re great kids, Mike and I appreciate everything you do for Kurt.”

“Are you not coming to the hospital tonight, Burt?” Tina asked.

“No, I was there all morning but I wanted to be here for Nick and Jeff when they woke up. Kurt wants me to run a few errands for him. I’ll be back there in the morning.”

*********

Nick and Jeff found Mike and Tina to be exactly as Blaine had described them in his emails. Calm, supportive, genuine and compassionate, the married couples bonded over their mutual love and admiration for Blaine. By the time they arrived on Kurt’s corridor, they were laughing over a funny tale Nick was telling of Blaine as a teenager. The laughter stopped though when all four noticed a middle-aged couple leaving Kurt’s room - the man with his arm around the woman who was crying into a white handkerchief which she held to her eyes. The couple turned away from the four visitors and headed in the opposite direction.

“Who was that?” Tina asked Mike curiously.

“I don’t know, Tina,” he replied. “I don’t recognise them at all.”

Together they swung open the door to Kurt’s room to find their friend struggling to wipe his eyes and blow his nose with just his uninjured hand.

“Here Kurt, let me help you,” offered Tina immediately rushing to his side. The three men hung back, allowing Kurt some privacy as Tina helped him clean up after what had obviously been an emotional moment.

“Hey Kurt,” began Nick tentatively, “are you alright, mate?”

Kurt nodded and then swallowed. He looked up at the four standing around his bed. “I’m fine, I guess. That was … they are his parents…”

“Whose parents?” Jeff was confused.

“The driver of the car that hit us,” explained Kurt. “He was a teenager - had no driver’s license. He borrowed … stole rather, his dad’s _Porsche_ and took it for a joyride. Apparently, he was speeding, lost control and hit the cab Blaine and I were travelling in and, when our car rolled, he crashed into another car and then a third car which then smashed into ours again. He was killed instantly as was our cab driver.” The room was silent and Kurt swallowed again.

“They came to apologise … to say they are so desperately sorry for my pain and the fact that Bl … Blaine … that Blaine ….is in a co … coma.” The tears were falling fast again and Kurt’s breath got caught in his throat as he spoke of his friend.

“I want so much to be angry at that stupid little punk but all I could see was the devastation on their faces. It was dreadful. I didn’t know what to say to them. I wanted to hate them but I just cried and nodded at them as they spoke to me.”

“You did the right thing, Sweetie,” consoled Tina. “Your body will heal in time but they will never recover from the damage of that night.”

“But Blaine-” Kurt protested harshly, “Blaine might not recover, Tina!”

“Blaine is going to be okay, Kurt” Jeff interrupted sternly. “You’ll see. I know my buddy. He may look like he’s sleeping right now, but I know his body is working hard to heal. He’ll come back to us, I promise.”

“Jeff-” Nick attempted to caution his husband against making promises he could not keep.

“No, Nicky, don’t tell me I’m wrong,” Jeff retorted stubbornly. “I’m going to go visit with Blaine right now and remind him of all the reasons he has to come back to us. You’ll see. I’m right.”

With that bold announcement, Jeff left Kurt’s room and made his way towards the ICU. Greeting Victoria at the reception, he stopped outside Blaine’s room to sanitise his hands. He peered through the glass window and found Nurse Nancy bending over his friend, checking various wires attached to Blaine’s chest.

When Jeff stepped inside the sterile room, she looked up and smiled sweetly at him. “Oh look, Blaine, here’s your friend Jeff to visit with you.” She moved away from the bed and patted Jeff’s arm.

“You got some sleep,” she noted. “You look so much better than yesterday. I’ll give you guys some privacy. If you need me, just press that button beside his bed and I’ll be right in.”

Jeff looked quite nervous at being left alone with Blaine amidst the medical equipment but she smiled reassuringly at him.

“It’ll be fine – really. Sit here on this chair next to the bed and just chat to him like you would normally.”

Jeff thanked her and sat down on the chair she had indicated. He reached out to touch Blaine’s hand, careful not to disturb any of the wires. He closed his fingers around Blaine’s wrist and squeezed his eyes tight, willing away the tears that threatened to fall yet again.

“Blaine – I don’t know if you can hear me, B … but it’s me – Jeff. Yeah, that’s right – I’m here. Jeff Duval-Stirling has made it to L.A. Never thought I’d see the day, Blainers! But here I am – Nicky’s here too. Kurt flew us over as soon as we made contact with him, Blaine. He flew us over first class – what a treat Blaine – He’s a little bit of alright – your American boy.”

Jeff paused, the sound of his rushed words competed with the unremitting hiss of the machine to the right of Blaine’s bed and for a while he simply watched the steady lines of the heart monitor.

“I can’t believe this has happened Blaine – this year has been just the most awful. But I told everyone that you are going to come back to us. You just have to Blaine because … because nothing makes sense without you. You are the glue that holds us all together B – If it wasn’t for you, I would still be that lost little gay boy on the corridors of Southampton High. If it wasn’t for you, Blaine – my life would have turned out so differently. Do you remember what you said to me on my wedding day Blaine? Do you?”

 

_“Jeffrey Stirling! Stand still so I can tie this bow tie!”_

_“Blainers! I’m marrying Nicky today! Can you believe that? Nick and I are getting married!!”_

_“Well Blondie, if you don’t stand still, you’re going to marry the love of your life with an untied bowtie and I’m not sure I could allow that to happen. Now, stand still so I can make you presentable.”_

_Jeff’s laugh filled the anteroom where the two men were standing in tuxedos in front of the full length mirror._

_“You did make me presentable, Blainers – eight years ago.” Jeff’s voice was soft and his eyes suddenly serious as he caught Blaine’s eyes in the mirror._

_“Blaine, I don’t know if now is the time to tell you that I-” Jeff paused to collect his thoughts. “What I mean is …that first day we met in the school corridor – do you remember?”_

_“How could I forget, Blondie? That was a pretty special day for us three.”_

_“Only Nicky wasn’t there that day, Blaine. Do you remember? He only came back to school the next day,” Jeff reminded his friend._

_“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Blaine replied nonchalantly._

_“You noticed me right away Blaine, didn’t you?”_

_“Of course I did, you idiot – you and your shockingly blonde peroxided hair did stand out a bit; that and the fact that you dropped all your school books on the floor as soon as you turned away from your locker.”_

_“Yeah – and you were like my very own knight in shining armour rushing in quickly to help me pick them all up again”._

_Blaine laughed. “I do remember, Jeff – I remember everything about that day,” he answered quietly meeting Jeff’s eyes in the mirror and then turning the young bridegroom around to face him._

_“You were so kind to me Blaine – you welcomed me to SHS, helped me find my classrooms, introduced me to teachers as the ‘new Welsh kid from Wales’ and invited me to sit with you at lunch.”_

_“Well, you were good company so it was no hardship at all,” Blaine attempted to fob off the unexpected praise as he dusted imaginary lint off the shoulders of Jeff’s suit._

_“You made me feel at ease and immediately I felt comfortable with you Blaine – like I’d never felt with anyone before.”_

_“Mmm…until I introduced you to one Nicholas Duvall,” Blaine winked cheerfully at his friend but then he continued on a more serious note as he cupped Jeff’s cheek in his hand._

_“Jeff, I never hid the fact that I was attracted to you from the start. In my eyes, you were mine for a day but you … Jeff – you were like quicksilver I could not hold. It was not meant to be, mate. I saw the look that passed between you and Nick that afternoon after school when I took you round to his house for us to welcome him back from his holiday. I swear the minute you two laid eyes on each other, the earth stopped spinning, took a moment to readjust itself before starting up its motion again, only this time, destiny was altered forever. I understood that then, and I understand it now. You were mine for just a day, Jeffrey Stirling – it was the best day of my life but you were always meant to be Nicky’s for a lifetime.”_

_“I do love you, Blaine,” Jeff laughed as he covered Blaine’s hand with his own, “in a completely non-attractive, non-sexual way. Is that possible?”_

_Blaine laughed, “I’ll take it Jeff. I’ll take it.”_

Jeff squeezed his fingers around Blaine’s wrist and whispered through his tears. “You said that I was yours for a day Blaine, but you’ve been mine ever since you said “Hi” to me that first day in Year Eight. I’m always going to need you in my life, Blaine. Nick and me … our children are going to need their Uncle Blaine to balance out the crazy of their two daddies. Who else is going to teach them to play eight different instruments – because they _will_ be little geniuses, Blaine – you know that right? Who else will teach them to love to sing and dance? Blaine, please…I need you. Please wake up and come back to us.”

Nick found his husband half an hour later with his forehead resting on the bed, his fingers still curled around Blaine’s wrist and tears stained wet on his cheeks.

*********

Two days later, Santana arrived at the house to collect Nick and Jeff while the two men were still enjoying breakfast with Burt.

“You okay to collect Carole from the airport this morning, Burt?” she asked.

“Of course, I am. She rang earlier to say there are no delays and she’s scheduled to land on time.”

“Good,” replied Santana, “because I’ve arranged for Andrew to collect you and drive you to the airport.” She turned her attention to the two young men hastily drinking their coffee. “Take your time boys, there’s no rush.” But they ignored her and swallowed quickly declaring themselves to be ready to leave.

In the car, Nick asked Santana if there was any new news from the hospital.

“I’m afraid there’s no change in Blaine’s condition, Nick. Late last night, the doctor spoke to Kurt and told him there’s no real indication that the swelling in his brain is lessening at all. It remains a waiting game, unfortunately.”

“Kurt mentioned yesterday that he was hoping to be discharged tomorrow,” Jeff spoke from the back seat of Santana’s car.

“Yeah, I think the sooner Kurt Hummel is released from hospital the better for everyone concerned. Not quite the Christmas everyone had in mind, is it?”

Nick left Santana and Jeff assisting Kurt into a wheelchair for a short walk along the corridors as he was going stir crazy with the four walls of his hospital room although Nick warned them to stay away from the nursery for fear of Jeff never leaving. His heart was heavy as he made his way towards Blaine’s room. He and Jeff had put their plans for a baby on hold as soon as Chad had died because it was obvious that Blaine needed them. But his yearning to be a father could not be on placed on hold; it bubbled inside him constantly. He couldn’t wait to hold his son or daughter in his arms and to raise him or her together with Jeff. A dark thought crowded his mind, _What if our baby never gets a chance to meet Blaine?_

Victoria greeted him warmly as he entered the reception area. He was struck again by the juxtaposition of the Christmas decorations against the sterile environment. He supposed that even comatose patients in ICU and their visitors had the right to holly leaves, ivy and tinsel.

Nancy smiled brightly at him as he entered Blaine’s room. “Nick! It’s good to see you. I’ve just finished giving him a bath and a shave so he’s all fresh and ready for his visit with you.”

Nick looked over to the bed where Blaine lay and he registered that Blaine actually took up very little space in the bed. _You really are Kurt’s hobbit, aren’t you?_ He mused, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

When Nancy closed the door behind her, Nick sat down on the chair and dragged it closer to the side of the bed where he was able to take Blaine’s hand in his.

“Blaine, it’s me, Nick. I’m back buddy. How’re you doing?” Nick stopped and laughed at the line. “Oh, B, listen to me, would you – I’ve been in America only a couple of days and I’m beginning to sound like Joey on _Friends_.” He chuckled at a distant memory. 

“Hey, Blaine, do you remember how we used to love to try out different accents when we were in middle school? I reckon we were quite good at them too.”

In the silence that followed, Nick watched the green lines of the heart monitor. Over the past few days he’d become familiar with each of the machines attached to Blaine as Nancy had carefully explained each one’s function and purpose to him. He was no longer daunted by the sight of them, instead he found their recognisable beeps and hisses welcoming now because it meant they were doing their job to keep Blaine with them.

“Blaine, mate, tomorrow is Christmas Day. It would be an awesome gift if you would wake up for us, Blaine. Can I confess something to you, B? Promise you won’t be mad? Okay well, you can be a little mad but you have to promise not to hold it against me?”

Nick looked over at his friend and imagined Blaine’s response: _Spit it out Nicky and then I’ll decide if I’m going to get mad or not!_

“When you wrote and told us that you were going to stay in the States longer than we expected, I realized that this would be the first Christmas we would be apart in, I think, fifteen years. Even before your dad left, you’ve been spending Christmas with me, with my family and that didn’t change even after Jeff and I got married and I think Chad just sort of understood it as a tradition and never questioned it. You guys always came to us.”

Nick glanced toward Blaine, expecting the understanding and thoughtful nod that would come from his friend under normal circumstances. With a quick shake of his head Nick continued.

“Now, remember – you promised not to be mad, Blaine – but, I was … I was a little jealous. Now, I know you’re wondering and asking yourself ‘ _Of what_?’ I guess, I was jealous of … Kurt, Blaine. Jealous that Kurt would have you for Christmas this year and I wouldn’t. Stupid, hey? I guess it’s true what they say – ‘Be careful what you wish for because you may get it.’” 

Nick cursed and wiped away the treacherous tears that trickled down his cheek. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry, Blainers! It’s just … it was just us two for so long, then us and Jeff and then, Chad but you and me – we’ve always been the one constant in each other’s lives. I guess, I didn’t think I knew _how_ to have Christmas without you and I was bloody angry at you for staying here. Then I got angry at Chad for leaving us because that’s what made you come to the States and I was just so bloody angry at everything and just so sad for me. Pretty bloody selfish aren’t I?” 

Nick allowed the tears to fall now, grateful for the privacy of being alone with Blaine. Then he laughed a hollow shallow laugh.

“That’s your cue, Blaine. It’s time for you to say: ‘ _Nicholas are you nuts? You’re not selfish! You’re just you and I don’t want you to ever change_.’ Please Blaine – please wake up and tell me I’m not selfish.”

“You’re not selfish, Nick.”

The voice was quiet and soft, definitely not Blaine’s, but unexpected enough to make Nick jump, startled in the chair.

“Shit! Santana!” he exclaimed. “Warn a guy next time.”

Santana walked determinedly towards Nick telling him to get up from the chair. He complied because not doing as Santana instructed never even entered his mind. 

“Come here,” she ordered and took the crying man in her arms.

“You are not selfish, Nick,” she whispered into his ear as she stroked his head. “I’ve watched you over the past few days. You’re so busy making sure that Jeff is alright, that Kurt is taken care of, even me and Burt that there’s no room in your life or heart for selfishness, Nick. And I should know, because I am one hell of a selfish diva!”

Nick laughed and disentangled himself from her embrace. “You’re very sweet, Santana,” and when she frowned at him, he hastened to add, “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Come on, say goodbye to Blaine, we’ve got some last minute Christmas shopping to do for my PonyBoy,” Santana urged, tugging at Nick’s arm.

Nick squeezed Blaine’s arm and told him he’d be back soon and followed Santana out the room shaking his head as she stopped at the door, turned back towards the bed and yelled, “Later Hobbit!”

*********

The plates had been cleared away and the group around the lunch table were enjoying the Christmas pudding which Carole had made from scratch the day before.

“This is the most delicious brandy sauce I’ve ever tasted, Carole” remarked Tina as she helped herself to yet more.

“Thank you Tina – it was my mother’s special recipe.” Carole smiled in pleasure as their English guests held out their bowls for Tina to refill. “I’m glad you boys are enjoying it too.”

Burt’s glance fell on Kurt who hadn’t yet touched his pudding. “Not hungry, Kiddo?” he asked quietly.

“No, not really, Dad,” Kurt replied playing absent-mindedly with his spoon in the bowl.

“Are you feeling alright, Kurt?” asked Carole in concern. “Would you rather sit in the living room on a more comfortable chair?”

Kurt smiled wanly at his step-mother. “I’m sorry Carole, I don’t mean to be a party pooper – but no chair is really comfortable right now.” He grimaced as he shifted his position slightly easing the ache in his chest.

“No one would mind if you went to lie down, Kurt,” suggested Mike.

“No, no I’m fine, really. You all shouldn’t mind me at all. I’ll just take some more pain killers when lunch is over.”

Burt wiped his face on the napkin, pushed back his chair and stood up. “Where are the tablets, Kurt? I’ll get them for-”

The rest of his sentence was interrupted by the harsh ringing of Kurt’s phone lying on the table between himself and Santana.

He glanced down at the incoming call and then looked meaningfully at Nick seated across the table from him. 

“It’s the hospital,” he whispered. Burt sat back down and the guests around the table stilled completely as Kurt answered the call.

“Kurt Hummel.”

Nick took hold of Jeff’s hand and, on his other side, Carole grasped his left hand. All around the table, the family and friends took hold of one another’s hands as they listened anxiously to Kurt’s side of the conversation. A circle of love surrounded Kurt as he listened intently to the doctor on the end of the phone line.

“Yes, yes, I do understand, Dr Greenfield. Thank you very much for letting us know.”

A pause as he listened some more.

“Yes and Merry Christmas to you, too.”

Kurt ended the call and looked at the group around the table, hands clasped and all eyes on him. His eyes were swimming with tears as they first sought out Jeff and then Nick.

“That was Blaine’s neurosurgeon. He says that their tests today reveal that the swelling on Blaine’s brain has gone down considerably. So much so, that they’re going to begin to wean him off the meds.”

“What does that mean, Kurt” whispered Tina not willing to break the quiet spell around the table but desperate to understand what this new information meant.

“It’s good news, Tina because it means that they’re taking Blaine out of the drug-induced coma and giving him the chance to wake up on his own,” Carole explained as best she could.

Kurt nodded in agreement, his eyes flicking from Carole to his dad and then back to Nick.

“He says that Blaine’s body needs time to adjust to coping without the meds and that hopefully he will recover enough to wake up.”

Nick nodded in understanding, his eyes not leaving Kurt’s. It was Jeff who voiced what the entire table was thinking.

“The next few days are crucial, aren’t they? If Blaine is going to wake up from this coma then he has to do it in the next few days.” Kurt nodded in agreement.

“Oh Nicky, what if he doesn’t?” Jeff was distraught and Nick took his hand away from Carole’s to cuddle his husband close to his chest.

“Hey, Beautiful-,” he whispered.

“Blaine needs us to be strong for him now,” declared Burt from the head of the table.

Santana stood up and jerked her head towards Kurt.

“Go take your tablets, Ponyboy and then I’ll drive you to the hospital,” she instructed and Burt stood to help Kurt get up from the table. 

“Santana, can we get a ride with you too?” pleaded Jeff.

“No Angel, we’re not going to go today,” Nick replied softly before Santana could decline. “Kurt needs to spend some time with Blaine. We’ll go tomorrow, Beautiful. I promise.”

Mike and Tina exchanged a meaningful look as they watched Jeff open his mouth to disagree only to read Nick’s determined expression and then nod quietly.

“Okay, Nicky, tomorrow then.”

 

Kurt felt embarrassed as Santana wheeled him down the corridor but she was right – there was no way his wrenched ankle would cope with what seemed to be endless miles of linoleum hospital flooring.

“Kurt!” exclaimed Victoria when she saw him being wheeled into the ICU reception. “Merry Christmas!”

Kurt smiled at the woman who, despite every horrible trauma she had to attend to within these walls, always managed to greet her patients’ visitors with a bright warm smile.

“Ho Ho Ho,” chuckled Santana behind Kurt.

“Merry Christmas, Victoria,” replied Kurt with a grin. “We come bearing gifts,” he declared, gesturing with his uninjured arm to the pile of presents on his lap.

“Oh, how kind of you,” replied Victoria. “The staff will be thrilled. That’s very thoughtful of you” and she proceeded to help Santana remove the parcels from Kurt who then stood up carefully, trying not to rest his weight on the injured ankle.

Santana kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back in an hour, okay?”

Nancy opened the door for him and Kurt hobbled into Blaine’s room. It wasn’t his first visit - as soon the doctor had declared him well enough to sit up, he had insisted on being brought to Blaine’s room. However, when he first got here, he simply held Blaine’s hand and cried. Santana told him that she, Nick and Jeff had been talking to Blaine but Kurt just hadn’t been able to do so. He simply sat quite still, holding his friend’s hand, listening to the hiss and puff of the beeping machines.

Nancy watched him settle himself carefully into the chair beside Blaine’s bed and stepped back into the room to push a cushion between his back and the back rest to allow more comfort to his aching ribs. “You know what to do if you need me,” she reminded him and left the room, leaving Kurt sitting motionless on the chair, simply staring at Blaine’s sleeping face.

“Damn it! I miss you so much!” 

The words burst out suddenly, surprising even Kurt who turned his face towards the door to check that he was still alone in the room. He directed his attention back to Blaine and picked up the man’s hand to hold in his. His thumb stroked over the palm of Blaine’s hand.

“I didn’t know it was possible to miss anyone this much! I mean I missed my mom after she died – but I was eight, I was supposed to miss her and I miss Finn, obviously, … but you, … you have left this aching hole in my house, at my table, in my life and …” Kurt’s voice dropped to a whisper, “… and in my heart.”

Kurt glanced back at the door, checking that it was indeed shut.

“Blaine – do you believe in karma? You know, that expression: ‘what goes around comes around’? I didn’t, at least I didn’t used to, but I can’t help thinking that you, lying here in a coma, _is_ the Universe paying me back for what I did to you and Chad earlier this year.”

Kurt breathed out. It felt good to finally articulate the horrid thoughts that had been plaguing him ever since the accident over a week ago now.

“Blaine, I know you told me that Chad’s death was not my fault. But, what if it is, Blaine? What if the Universe knows the truth and now I’m being punished?”

Kurt took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What if the Universe knows that Kurt Hummel fell in love in London this year when he had absolutely no right to do so?”

Leaning forward to reach out his hand to stroke Blaine’s curls on his forehead, Kurt continued with his strange sort of confessional. 

“Blaine, you’re lying here fighting for your life because I fell in love with you and I’m so sorry. I’m so dreadfully sorry. If Nick and Jeff ever found out the truth, they’d hate me and they’d be right to, Blaine. If you hadn’t met me, your life would be so very different tonight.”

The enormity of his admission swept over Kurt like a tidal wave and he bowed his head, resting his forehead on the edge of Blaine’s bed and let the tears come.

Immediately his ribs protested in agony. The position was killing but Kurt ignored the pleas for relief as he sobbed his confession at the side of Blaine’s bed.

“I’m so sorry, Blaine. Please forgive me. Please wake up and forgive me.”

*****

Seven days later, as the world prepared to bid farewell to one year and usher in a new one, Kurt, Nick and Jeff were in Blaine’s room. Having wished the ICU staff a very happy new year and handed over several bottles of champagne with explicit instructions for them to be taken home and enjoyed with loved ones, the three friends cloistered themselves into cubicle 4B and tried to forget about the numerous party invitations they’d declined.

“Have you heard from Santana, Kurt?” asked Nick.

Kurt nodded, “Yeah, she sent a text about an hour ago to say they had landed safely.”

“I’m glad you were able to persuade her to go,” Jeff said.

Kurt laughed quietly. “Mmm… I don’t think I can claim the victory on that one, Jeff. Britney can be pretty persuasive when she wants to be and Santana is all but putty in her expert hands.”

Nick laughed as Jeff glanced down at his watch. “Nick, it’s midnight,” he whispered.

“Happy New Year guys,” Kurt’s voice was brittle in his throat as he watched Nick envelop Jeff in a tight embrace and kiss him softly on the lips. Jeff’s eyes fluttered shut as he hugged his husband back.

Tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, Kurt looked away, sweeping his eyes across the bed where Blaine lay looking at him. 

_Wait, what_ ?

“Blaine?” Kurt’s voice squeaked out at an abnormally high pitch and the embracing couple in the room broke apart at the sound. Kurt stepped closer to the bed and leaned forward.

“Blaine? Can you hear me?” 

Blaine’s eyes remained fastened, unblinking on Kurt’s but he did not acknowledge Kurt’s question in any way.

Nick came to stand beside Kurt and Jeff flew around to the other side.

“Blaine? Blaine, it’s me Nick. Can you hear me, mate?”

All three men watched as Blaine’s eyes swivelled slowly from Kurt’s face to Nick’s where they settled. Blaine blinked and his eyes seemed to relax as they focused on Nick.

Blaine’s lips parted but no sound escaped. Kurt picked up the facecloth lying on the bedside table and wet it under the tap. Blaine’s eyes fluttered to Kurt’s as he gently took care of Blaine’s parched lips.

“Blaine?” Nick tried again. “Blaine, can you let me know if you can hear me?”

Blaine’s lips parted again and the three men were astounded to hear Blaine whisper.

“Nick?”

“I’m here mate, I’m here. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Oh, Blaine,” exclaimed Jeff on the other side of him and Blaine turned his head to take in the sobbing man. “We’ve been so worried.”

“Jeff?” whispered Blaine.

“Here Blaine; I’m right here with you. We’re all here for you, Blainers. It’s going to be okay.”

Blaine’s head turned once again, his eyes landing on Kurt who smiled at him through his tears. Blaine’s gaze lingered on Kurt’s face for a moment before swivelling over to Nick.

“Nick, where’s Chad?”


	21. Chapter 21

“Nicky, I didn’t see that coming at all.”

Jeff whispered quietly to his husband as they waited in the corridor outside Blaine’s room. Inside, Nurse Nancy was checking Blaine’s vitals as Victoria made notes on his charts as she read information off the machines while Dr Greenfield was talking to Blaine. Kurt was further along the corridor speaking to his father on the phone. Nick and Jeff couldn’t make out what he was saying but the dejected stoop of his shoulders spoke volumes to the young couple.

“At least his voice is back,” replied Nick. “That’s one consolation isn’t it?”

All three young men looked up as the doctor stepped out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him again. Kurt snapped his phone shut to quickly join the others.

Dr Greenfield wiped his hand across his brow and looked tiredly at the three anxious friends. He tried to reassure them as best he can.

“Blaine is sleeping again- actually sleeping - not comatose,” he hastened to add when he noticed a look of pure terror cross Kurt’s face. 

“In my conversation with him, it would appear that he thinks he’s in England and that he’s concerned that his husband, Chad, isn’t here to see him. I deliberately didn’t set him straight on any account. I wanted to assess the amnesia without confusing him.”

“Dear Heaven, tell me this is not happening,” Kurt pleaded. “He’s going to lose Chad all over again, isn’t he, doctor? When he realises that Chad is no longer alive – he’s going to have to mourn all over again.” Kurt sat down on the nearest chair. “How much more must he endure?”

“Hey Kurt, come on now,” Jeff admonished gently. “Blaine’s awake and he’s talking again. His voice is back! Let’s concentrate on the positive things.”

“Jeff is right, Kurt,” encouraged Nick, sitting down beside Kurt. “We must focus on the fact that Blaine has woken up – that in itself is a huge feat for his battered injured head to have accomplished. When he is next awake we can try to establish the full extent of his amnesia.”

“It’s patience we need, Kurt,” reiterated Jeff softly his hand resting on Kurt’s shoulder. He looked towards his husband. “We should go,” he suggested. “We should get some rest too. Looks like it could be a long day tomorrow.”

*********

Kurt thought he had been really quiet as he pottered around the kitchen making himself a cup of coffee with just his one good arm, so when Burt walked in, Kurt apologised immediately for disturbing father’s sleep.

“Don’t be silly. It wasn’t your noise that woke me. I’ve been tossing and turning since your phone call. I’m surprised Carole was able to sleep with all my jostling.” 

He scrutinised his son – nodding when Kurt raised a mug at him suggesting coffee. “Did you sleep at all, Kurt?”

Kurt shook his head in defeat. “No, not at all.”

The two men took their coffee mugs to the living room where Kurt got comfortable on his temporary sofa bed again while Burt settled into the armchair beside him.

They were both quiet for a while before Kurt burst out in frustration. “I can’t lose him, Dad.”

“What do you mean, Kiddo?” asked Burt gently.

“We … um .. we were … well, the thing is … things were … progressing…” Kurt was embarrassed and stumbled over his words as he tried to explain to his dad exactly where he and Blaine had been the night of the accident.

“The day before the accident – that Sunday – we enjoyed a lovely day together. We both put aside our work and agreed to enjoy the day just relaxing together. We lazed around in our pyjamas in the morning, ate pancakes for breakfast and read the newspaper until I suggested we head over to the Sunday craft market in Lexington Park. We ambled around in the sun and Blaine bought a few knick knacks. We ended up buying lunch from one of the food sellers and ate it whilst sitting on one of the benches. It was warm and lazy and we were enjoying ourselves. It was Blaine who changed the tone of the day.”

_I’M THINKING OF GOING BACK TO SEE A-R-T-I-E. Blaine’s sudden signed declaration surprised Kurt and he looked up from his sandwich, surprised at Blaine’s comment._

_“Oh, how come?” he asked._

_I WANT TO KNOW IF THERE’S SOMETHING HE CAN DO TO HELP ME GET BACK MY VOICE._

_“Blaine, don’t you think that if there was something he could do, he would have suggested it that day we went in August?” Kurt’s tone was tender yet confused. “I don’t understand where this is coming from,” he confessed._

_I KNOW, ME NEITHER. I MEAN I’M REALLY ENJOYING PLAYING THE PIANO AT THE BAR AND I’M LOVING CREATING THE MUSICAL SCORE FOR BLAZE BUT I CAN’T HELP FEELING …_

_Blaine’s signing stopped and the sentence trailed off as he looked away from Kurt into the distance where a small knot of children were crowding around a football._

_“Feeling what?” Kurt prompted gently._

_FEELING LIKE … LIKE I’M LIVING A LIE. Blaine hung his head as if in shame._

_“What do you mean, Blaine?” Kurt asked, concerned. “Is this something you want to talk about with me? Is this not something you should discuss with your therapist?”_

_Kurt was nervous, not entirely sure what unchartered territory they were heading for. Blaine’s mood seemed to have inexplicably darkened and Kurt was lost._

_WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?_

_“Doing what?” asked Kurt, baffled._

_WHY ARE YOU DOING ALL OF THIS FOR ME? WHY ARE YOU SO INVESTED IN WHAT HAPPENS TO ME?_

_“Wait, hang on a bit!” Kurt was unsurprisingly taken aback at the attack. “What exactly are you getting at, Blaine?”_

_WE … WE BASICALLY LIVE TOGETHER K-U-R-T. YOU DON’T SEE ANYONE ELSE. I SURE AS HELL DON’T SEE ANYONE ELSE. OUR LIVES ARE COMPLETELY WRAPPED UP IN EACH OTHER’S AND I GUESS … I WANT … I WANT TO KNOW WHY._

_“I’m not sure why you’re getting angry with me, Blaine,” Kurt’s voice was soft but firm in its confusion._

_I’M NOT GETTING ANGRY, K-U-R-T. THIS IS FRUSTRATION._

_“Frustration?” echoed Kurt, the hurt now obvious. “You’re saying, you are frustrated with me?”_

_NO, NOT YOU- I’M FRUSTRATED WITH THIS and Blaine’s hands gestured between the two of them._

_“Blaine -” Kurt was at a loss as to how to continue this conversation which had completely derailed but Blaine began signing again._

_I’M JUST SOME RANDOM BLOKE YOU BUMPED INTO AND SPILLED COFFEE ON. YOU REPLACED THE SHIRT AND OFFERED ME ACCOMMODATION – MORE THAN REPAYING WHATEVER DEBT YOU THOUGHT YOU OWED ME._

_“I’d like to think we’re more than just that Blaine,” Kurt offered tentatively. “I’d like to think you saw me as a friend. I enjoyed your company and didn’t want to lose contact with you when I left London. I enjoyed the friendship we developed via text after that weekend.”_

_BUT WAS IT JUST FRIENDSHIP K-U-R-T? WERE YOU INTERESTED IN SOMETHING ELSE?_

_Kurt’s head whipped to the side as he looked away at the end of that question. His heart was racing and his palms were sweaty. Truth time, Hummel, he convinced himself. Slowly, he turned towards Blaine who was looking at him – his eyes fixed determinedly on Kurt._

_“Fine,” he sighed and scrunched the sandwich paper wrapper into a ball in his fist. “I’ll admit that when we met in London in March, I found you very attractive and was very interested, BUT the minute you told me you were married, I backed off – you know I did. I did everything I could to be a good friend to you, Blaine. I still am.”_

_Blaine’s eyes filled with tears and Kurt hastened to continue._

_“Blaine, you’re here to heal and I’m here to help you in whatever way I can. That’s what this-” Kurt gestured between them, “…is.”_

_He got up from the bench and dusted his jeans. He held out his hand to Blaine to pull him off the bench._

_“Come on,” he instructed, “there’s a whole row of stalls we haven’t visited yet.”_

“I didn’t know what he wanted out of that conversation, Dad, and I sure as hell didn’t know what I wanted either so I made us leave it on the bench in the park. But that evening when he started to get ready to go to the bar, I asked if he would mind if I tagged along.

And then, Dad, right at the end of the evening as Blaine was bringing his set list to an end, Sugar’s dad ambled over to where I was seated and handed me a piece of paper with Blaine’s handwriting on it; _**Come sing for us please, Kurt** _ it read _._

I found his eyes and shook my head but he wouldn’t accept it. You know he does that ridiculous pout with his lips and rolls huge puppy dog eyes. Sugar’s dad basically begged as well and I couldn’t say no.

I went to sit next to Blaine on the piano stool, bumping shoulders with him and asked what I was supposed to sing. I listened carefully to the first few notes he played and caught on pretty quickly that Blaine was playing _Blackbird_ by The Beatles. You know how much I love that song and so I stayed beside him and sang the song. When it came to an end I could hear the applause from the bar’s patrons, but I was most touched by Blaine’s comment. 

YOU MOVE ME K-U-R-T, he signed. 

I rested my head on his shoulder briefly before we got up, thanked the audience and left the bar in silence. We didn’t talk on our way home. Inside, I simply said “Goodnight Blaine” and turned towards my bedroom. He stopped me with a hand to my shoulder and signed, I’M NOT MARRIED ANYMORE before closing his bedroom door.

Well, obviously I didn’t get any sleep that night as I wondered what was going on in his mind. The next day, I had meetings in the city all day but when I got a break to check my emails, there was one from Blaine. **I’m** **sorry I’ve been all emo’ lately – can we go dancing tonight?**

All was fine between us as I got home and we headed out to Joe’s Bar in the city around 9pm. We decided to take a cab because I think we both understood there would be drinking. And we did – we chatted a bit, we drank a bit and we danced a lot. Blaine’s a brilliant dancer, Dad and it was awesome to be on the dance floor with someone who knows what they’re doing. People were backing away from us to give us room as Blaine spun me around and dipped me like we were on some dancing show or something. It was intoxicating – and maybe it was the alcohol as well, but it was amazing, spectacular and overwhelmingly wonderful.”

Burt smiled at his son in understanding.

_“This is awesome!” Kurt shouted loudly in Blaine’s ear, trying to be heard above the deafening thud-thud of the speaker._

_Blaine grinned and nodded._

_“I think I’m drunk,” Kurt confided, giggling into Blaine’s ear and Blaine’s grin flashed again and he nodded in agreement._

_“Me too,” he mouthed, pointing to himself with his thumb._

_The tempo of the music changed to a gentler, slower song and Kurt made to leave the dance floor but was pulled back by Blaine who was shaking his head._

_“Stay,” he mouthed at Kurt who raised an enquiring eyebrow. Around them, couples were drawing closer to each other and slowing their movements down into a sensual rhythmic sway. Blaine pulled Kurt closer to himself and Kurt went willingly. Blaine lifted Kurt’s hands to wrap them around his neck as he, in turn, encircled Kurt’s waist with his own. Kurt allowed Blaine to take the lead and matched his body’s movements to that of the shorter man._

_Kurt felt Blaine’s heart beat against his chest and inhaled the man’s scent as he allowed the sounds of the music to waft over them. It was heady; it was hypnotic; it was wonderful; but, it was dangerous. Kurt tried to move away but Blaine held on tighter and brought Kurt’s body impossibly closer to his own as Kurt became acutely aware of Blaine’s thigh slotting comfortably between his own. He turned his head to find Blaine’s mere inches away, their eyes locked and they stared at each other for a long moment._

_Suddenly Kurt could no longer hear the music. The people around them disappeared and all that existed was him and Blaine and this moment. He swallowed hard and his eyes flicked down to Blaine’s lips – lush and full and red. His eyes returned to Blaine’s but the man’s attention had been drawn to Kurt’s lips and Blaine ran his tongue lightly over his bottom lip before he too looked back up into Kurt’s eyes._

_The consent was there, it was read and received and, with an infinitesimal nod, the two men closed the distance between them simultaneously. Kurt’s breath caught in his chest as he felt Blaine’s lips descend on his for the first time. They were soft, smooth and tasted a little like beer. Blaine’s hand left Kurt’s waist, trailed upwards against the man’s side and came up to grip his head – a thumb on one side of his ear and the other fingers splayed on the side of his head and he took control of the kiss._

_He ran his tongue along Kurt’s bottom lip – gently and firmly but without presumption. Kurt sucked his breath in at the sensation and his knees buckled as he responded. Parting his lips slightly, he allowed Blaine tentatively to lick forward and then with a little more confidence, Blaine thrust his tongue into Kurt’s mouth where their tongues collided in joyous enthusiasm._

_Eventually, they had to break for air and Blaine pulled his head away from Kurt’s as the taller man looked intensely into Blaine’s eyes._

_“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked breathlessly._

_Blaine nodded and the two men grabbed their jackets from their booth and headed for the door. Outside, Kurt hailed a cab and only let go of Blaine’s hand when the two of them bundled inside. Having given the driver his address, Kurt settled back into the seat whereupon Blaine cuddled up to him and laid his head on Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt picked up Blaine’s hand in his and brought it to his mouth to kiss._

 

“And that’s really the last I can positively remember, Dad. The collision itself is a blur of noise and screams and rolling sensations but I do remember crawling to where Blaine lay on the tar. I was crying and bleeding and in so much damn pain but he was lying so still, so incredibly still. I was terribly frightened.”

Kurt was weeping again and his dad came to sit beside him on the sofa. When he collected himself again, Kurt explained further. 

“Dad, we got close that night – and it probably was the alcohol that released us from our inhibitions and our fears and guilt but if it hadn’t been for that accident – Blaine and I could have been a couple by Christmas and now .. and now … he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Burt realised there was nothing he could say that would bring comfort to his son right now, so he did the only thing he could. He held him. He held Kurt until the crying stopped and Kurt pulled away to blow his nose.

“I fell in love with him in March, Dad and I had to deliberately back away because he was not available – I had to give up those feelings and settle for being friends. But these past five months that he’s been here, I fell for him all over again. What if I have to give him up again? What if I have to back away again because he doesn’t remember who I am or what we had started to become for each other? Dad, what if I lose again? I don’t know if I’ll survive the disappointment this time.”

*********

“Kurt? Wake up, Kurt!”

Kurt came slowly to consciousness as an insistent hand tapped his shoulder jostling him awake. He rubbed his eyes and his brain took a moment to realign to reality.

“Wha? Where? Oh, hi Victoria. I’m awake, I’m awake.”

“Kurt, what are you doing sleeping on this uncomfortable chair out here?” Victoria wanted to know. “Nancy says you’ve been here all day.”

Kurt shrugged as he stood up to stretch his aching tired and sore muscles.

“I just wanted to be nearby, Victoria. In case he … in case Blaine wakes up properly and remembers,” he replied shrugging his shoulders in embarrassment.

“Mmm,” Victoria murmured, “Nancy says he’s been in and out of consciousness all day but he’s still quite confused when he wakes.”

Kurt nodded. “I didn’t want to add to his confusion by being in the room each time, so I just thought I’d wait out here.”

Kurt looked at his watch and registered that it was already quite late in the afternoon. “Nick and Jeff were here for a while earlier and they were able to chat to him for a while before he fell asleep again.”

“Well, Dr. Greenfield is in with him now, perhaps he’ll have more news when he’s finished.” Victoria reached out and patted Kurt’s back. “He’s going to be okay, Kurt. You’ll see. You just have to keep believing.” Kurt’s eyes filled with tears as his head flooded with the memory of Mercedes, Artie, Tina and himself singing ‘ _Don’t stop_ _believing’_ with Finn and Rachel in their sophomore year _._

Victoria turned to leave just as the door to Blaine’s room opened and Dr. Greenfield came out. He looked pleased to see Kurt in the corridor.

“Kurt! Oh good, you’re here.”

“Hello, Dr. Greenfield. How is Blaine?” Kurt asked.

“He’s fine. He’s been awake for the last twenty minutes or so. Kurt, he wants to see you.”

“What?” spluttered Kurt. “He asked to see me? Does that mean he remembers? Does he remember what happened to Chad?” Kurt paused and swallowed visibly, “Does he know who I am?”

Doctor Greenfield chuckled and patted Kurt on his back. “Go inside Kurt. He asked specifically for you.”

Kurt turned towards the door, his heart racing and his stomach doing somersaults. As his hand turned the handle, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Blaine’s face lit up and he smiled as Kurt entered the room hesitantly. 

“Hey Kurt” he rasped out - his voice still scratchy and hoarse.

“Hey yourself, Hobbit,” Kurt grinned back. “How are you feeling?” He sat down on the chair beside the bed and took a hold of the hand that did not have needles thrust into it.

“My voice is back,” claimed Blaine proudly, albeit through a raspy whisper.

“Yeah, it is,” smiled Kurt, squeezing Blaine’s hand. “But, you sound like one of those lounge singers from the sixties. Do you … what do you … um..” Kurt faltered, dropped his eyes, unsure how to ask for the answers he desperately needed.

“I remember, Kurt,” Blaine stated simply and Kurt looked up to find Blaine’s eyes searching his.

“I remember meeting you in London at the Literature Festival and enjoying your obvious attention. I remember our casual friendship via text messages when you returned to the States. I remember thinking that I was the luckiest guy on the planet to have found such a caring and awesome friend.” 

Blaine squeezed Kurt’s hand as he watched the soft blush spread over Kurt’s cheeks. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I remember fighting with Chad that night after the musical. And I remember feeling very guilty when he left in anger because, although I didn’t cheat on him with you, I know that as I travelled home in the train back to Southampton on that Sunday evening after spending the weekend with you, I … I actually wished my life was different.” 

Kurt looked at Blaine helplessly as he continued softly.

“I remember that when I got home, I threw myself completely into preparing school lessons and the musical rehearsals to try to distract myself from thoughts of you. I wasn’t very successful. I … I started to write you a song.” 

Blaine stopped to wet his dry lips sucking gently on the crushed ice in the plastic cup beside the bed.

“It was for me?” questioned Kurt, his eyes swimming. “You told me in a text once that you’d started composing again. I didn’t realize-”

“Kurt,” Blaine continued on, determined to get his whole speech out. “I remember our discussion in the park and I remember the night of our accident.”

“What do you remember about that night, Blaine?” Kurt asked this quietly – his voice hardly audible in the sterile hospital room.

“I remember dancing with you and holding you close and wanting so desperately to kiss you. I did. I kissed you Kurt and I remember you kissed me back.”

“Blaine, I-” Kurt started but before he could continue, the door to Blaine’s private cubicle swung open rudely.

“Blaine! You’re awake, mate!”

Blaine and Kurt both jerked their heads in the direction of the doorway where Nick stood with Jeff.

“The nurses said you were awake, remembering recent things and chatting to Kurt but Jeff insisted he had to see for himself.” 

Blaine’s friends entered the room happily oblivious to the heavy moment they had just interrupted. They dragged in behind them, several multi-coloured helium balloons with “Get Well Soon” messages emblazoned across their middle. Jeff allowed the balloons to float freely up to the ceiling as he released his hold on the ribbons.

Blaine and Kurt laughed and Nick observed their delighted faces as well as their entwined hands on top of the bed covers. He grinned broadly at his bed-ridden friend.

“Well, since you’re all here, I can deliver this information just once,” Dr. Greenfield announced as he entered the room followed by Carole and Burt who took one look at Kurt’s face and his hand held tightly in Blaine’s to know that all was well.

“Blaine here is looking good to be discharged probably within the next week - as soon as we have completed the last battery of tests and confirmed positive results. There’ll be some much needed recovery time for broken bones but that you can do at home with those who love you.”

The cheers that went up in the room were loud and happy. Jeff swung Nurse Nancy in a twirl and declared how much he would miss her. Victoria smiled from the door – happy that her patient would be going home surrounded by so many who love him.

“Come on you lot,” chastised Carole. “Let’s get out of here so Blaine can get his rest so that he will be ready soon to come home for good.”

Burt hustled and cajoled the crowd out of the room as Blaine smiled and waved with his unfettered hand. The door closed behind his visitors and he was left alone in the room again. His heart was full and he sighed deeply. The door opened again and Kurt’s head popped back in.

“Kurt!” called Blaine out happily.

“Sh!” chastised Kurt. “I don’t want them to know I slipped back inside but I just wanted to give you something to remember for tomorrow.”

‘Something to remember?” repeated Blaine.

“Yeah,” whispered Kurt as he bent his head over the bed and captured Blaine’s lips in his own. 


	22. Chapter 22

Blaine stared across the black leather seat of the limousine at Kurt and, not for the first time since he’d met him, marvelled at the man’s composure. Blaine’s own stomach churned with nervous tension despite having willed the rioting butterflies to be still. Kurt was looking out of the window and, yet again, Blaine was able to appreciate the finely chiselled profile of the face he’d come to love to so dearly.

The first time he was properly and freely able to worship Kurt’s lips and neck without restriction from injuries, remained one of Blaine’s most favourite memories of their time together since the night of the accident. Now, looking at Kurt’s neck as he stretched forward to peer intently out the window, Blaine was struck by an absurd desire to mark the flesh, to kiss and suck that spot just below Kurt’s ear. The spot that Blaine had discovered would reduce Kurt to a mumbling mess as he succumbed to Blaine’s ministrations.

Blaine dragged his eyes away from Kurt’s neck before he could act on his desire and let his eyes wander down the length of Kurt’s arm to where his hand lay entwined with Blaine’s on the seat between them. He rubbed his thumb lightly over Kurt’s fingers; the movement seemed to capture the other man’s attention because Kurt turned his head away from the window and first glanced down at their hands and then up towards Blaine’s face. His blue eyes were darker tonight. They reminded Blaine of a crisp yet clear blue winter morning sky in England. When those blue orbs settled on Blaine’s eyes he felt his stomach lurch, his breath caught and he squeezed Kurt’s hand tightly.

“You nervous, Blaine?” Kurt inquired softly.

Blaine nodded gently. “A little,” he admitted. “But I’m trying not to think about it.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours? You’ve got that far away look in your eyes.”

Blaine smiled at Kurt. 

“I can’t believe how far we’ve come,” he admitted in a reverent whisper.

It had taken three months of intensive physical therapy before the two of them could say they were completely healed and free of injuries. During those three months, they had taken time to get to know one another in a whole new way. Their friendship was as solid as ever and withstood them easing their way into a new and permitted loving relationship. They relished the freedom to flirt and tease each other as they carved a new avenue into their shared life.

Their friends and Kurt’s family had been thrilled with the news that they had started dating. Nick and Jeff were able to board a plane back to England happy in the knowledge that their friend was alive and well, healing both physically and emotionally and falling in love again. 

Burt and Carole had returned to Lima as soon as Carole was sure the recuperating men could take care of themselves. Both Kurt and Blaine had persuaded Santana that there was absolutely no need for her to move in to take care of them but agreed that she, Mike and Tina could pop in on alternate days to check on their recovery.

Soon, Kurt was back at his desk in front of his laptop and eventually Blaine made it back to the piano to work towards new deadlines for the musical score for _Blaze_. The media frenzy had died down considerably after Kurt had quietly introduced Blaine as a close friend as he left the hospital in a wheelchair still with a bandage around his head. Even the most cutthroat reporters could see that Blaine and Kurt were in desperate need of privacy as they healed from their injuries. 

For Kurt, the major adjustment was becoming accustomed to Blaine’s voice again. Whilst he had missed the deep timbre of the man’s voice it still caused him to jump as a startled jack rabbit when Blaine suddenly spoke up during a movie or spoke from the door leading into Kurt’s office or commented on something at the dinner table. As a joke, one day, Blaine rang his bell before beginning to speak. The first time Blaine had laughed out loud at some silly programme on the television, Kurt had found himself tearing up. The sound of Blaine’s giggle and laugh brought back so many memories of their meeting in London when Kurt had found himself spellbound by the sweet sound of Blaine’s unrestrained mirth. Blaine had been concerned by the tears in Kurt’s eyes but nodded in understanding when Kurt confessed just how much he had missed that sound. The other sound that Kurt didn’t mind was hearing over and over was the tantalising sound of Blaine moaning in Kurt’s ear as he kissed Blaine’s neck and nibbled on his ear. 

Kurt took Blaine back to the cottage in Monterey over the Easter break in April and it was there he believed that Blaine truly healed. He surfed and swam in the sea most days and spent the evenings mapping out the treasure that was Kurt’s body. Kurt took delight in the return of Blaine’s golden brown tan and expressed his satisfaction at night as he explored the contours and plains on Blaine’s body. Their love making, at first, was sweet and tentative, neither man wanting to hurt their recently healed bodies. But as Kurt pushed deeper into his body, Blaine couldn’t help arching his hips to meet each thrust as, together, they sought after that peak that would bring them untold fulfilment. It was Blaine coming apart beneath him and gasping, “Kurt” as he climaxed that sent Kurt reeling over the edge hurtling towards his own orgasm. 

On the anniversary of Chad’s death, the two men sat on the beach watching the sun set, staying out to sip their drinks long after other holiday-makers had left. There was no need for conversation, no need for words to demarcate what they were doing. Blaine sat nestled in front of Kurt on the sand, comfortably leaning back into Kurt’s chest as Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine’s waist to hold him tight. It was a silent homage to the man who had been Blaine’s husband; a necessary farewell for each man to make before heading back to the beach cottage and their new lives.

Blaine had returned to playing at the piano bar but when, one night, he started to sing with, the patrons went wild with delight and Phillip Motta managed to persuade him to add a few more nights to his contract. Blaine was glad he had the distraction of playing almost each night when Kurt and Santana left on a book tour for three weeks. Kurt had phoned every night, complaining that he missed Blaine enormously. Two weeks into the tour, Santana couldn’t deal with his moping any longer and eventually got Blaine booked on a flight to join them for the final week. Blaine was thrilled to see Kurt in his element again with the crowd as he wooed them with his wit and humour.

In late August, Kurt and Blaine travelled back to Lima to spend two weeks with Burt and Carole. Kurt took Blaine to the cemetery to introduce him to first his mom and then to Finn. Blaine found it a poignant moment and promised Elizabeth that he would love and care for her son for all the days he was given on this earth.

In December they travelled to the UK at the insistence of Nick and Jeff. Kurt was nervous at first to meet Sebastian knowing how close he had been to Chad but Sebastian was welcoming and polite and held Blaine tightly in his embrace until the moment became almost awkward. 

Nick and Jeff were delighted to introduce Hannah Sterling-Duval to their best friend and his boyfriend. Kurt and Blaine “oohed” and “aahed” over the tiny baby and when Blaine held the tiny bundle in his arms, Kurt watched as he allowed his tears to fall without any shame.

Blaine took Kurt to meet his former students at the middle school where Kurt signed many books for the enthralled students and posed for a photograph together with Rosie Billington who could not stop smiling.

New Year saw them all gathered in the home of Jeff and Nick and baby Hannah and when the bells from Big Ben rang out on the television Blaine took Kurt into his arms and kissed him thoroughly.

“Mmm…. So much better than last year this time,” was Kurt’s comment at five past midnight when they finally separated and Blaine had to agree.

“You’ve come so far Blaine.” Kurt’s voice in the limousine interrupted Blaine’s thoughts and he looked up, startled. “After tonight, everyone is going to be talking about what an extraordinary musician you are. Recording studios are going to be knocking each other over to sign your first album.”

Blaine shook his head in disagreement.

“No, Kurt,” he insisted, “tonight is about you. _Blaze_ is an extraordinary story of courage and determination. It’s your story and _your_ night. This opening night is all about you.”

“How ‘bout we both agree that tonight is about us, and be done, huh?” came Kurt’s swift but sweet compromise.

“Yeah, let’s,” agreed Blaine with a soft smile. Kurt watched his boyfriend take a deep breath before turning in his seat to face Kurt more squarely.

“Kurt,” Blaine hesitated, “speaking about … us …. um … Would you … um … can we… ?

“Blaine, what is it?” interrupted Kurt, his voice concerned.

“Kurt, I love you so much, but I want so much more with you,” Blaine rushed now, his nerves giving way. “Would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”

Kurt gasped and his mouth fell open. He quickly shut it, knowing how ridiculous he looked. Before he had a chance to reply, Blaine was rushing on, his hand pulling out a small box from the inside pocket of his tuxedo.

“I’ve had this ring for a while now and I just can’t go on anymore without giving it to you and asking you to be mine for as long as we get of this life on earth.”

Kurt giggled as his eyes watered.

“Oh Blaine, Yes, yes of course,” he gasped through his tears. “Oh you … I was going to propose tonight after the premier and look, you beat me to it!” Kurt reached forward from the seat and retrieved a small box from the storage cabinet. 

“Here,” he said, “will you, Blaine Anderson, do me the honour of marrying me? Be my husband Blaine. Let me love you all the days I have on this earth.”

“I want nothing more than to be your husband, Kurt and to call you mine,” Blaine replied, his eyes staring intensely into Kurt’s as they reached for each other’s left hand.

When the rings were in place, each man stared at the symbol of love and commitment adorning their fingers and then they were kissing. Their arms reaching up to hold and cradle the other’s face, desperate never to let go.

The limousine came to a perfectly practised quiet halt outside the theatre. Blaine looked at his fiancé.

“I love you, Kurt. With every breath I take – fearlessly and forever.”

“And I love you, Blaine - for now and for always.”

“Are you ready for this?” Blaine asked as Andrew opened the door. 

Kurt stepped out onto the red carpet as the myriad flashbulbs from the waiting paparazzi went off. He reached his hand back and grasped Blaine’s who clambered out of the car as well. The sparkle of their rings matched the sparkle in their eyes as they drew themselves up and walked hand in hand towards the waiting press to whom Kurt couldn’t wait to introduce his fiancé.

Blaine leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Well, this night will certainly be something to remember.”

 


End file.
